


You don't know how lovely you are

by Ostodvandi



Series: The Adrienverse [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Claurenz as a side ship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Trans Male Character, Unrequited Love, mostly angst, postgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2020-10-05 17:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 61,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20492345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ostodvandi/pseuds/Ostodvandi
Summary: Of all the several bad decisions he had made in his life, letting him go was the worst of them.





	1. Tell you I set you apart

**Author's Note:**

> This is fic started as a vent fic for an exam I had the next day. Now I'm a clown and this is the longest fic I'll ever write, probably. Formatting on mobile like I'm doing rn is hell so please don't think too much about how wacky it looks.
> 
> Also Sylvain sweetie I'm so sorry.

His hair, wet with sweat, sticks to his face. He can’t see a thing, with his eyes filled with tears. It’s been so long since the last time he cried this much. His teeth are gritted, but even that isn’t enough to keep whines and screams of pain at bay. 

And blood. He knows there’s blood, it couldn’t possibly hurt this much without blood.

A familiar hand tries to clean the sweat, tears and snot from his face. ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘It’s alright. You’re almost there.’

There’s worry in Sylvain’s voice, and it shows no matter how much he tries to hide it. It’s shaky and low, and he can barely hear it over his own pulse against his ears. His hand is covering his. ‘Mercie.’

Mercedes’s voice sounds so distant. ‘It could be worse, but...’

His mind has been spiraling into panic for a while, ever since the first lashing of pain had crossed his body Goddess knows how many hours ago. He had heard it would hurt, but he feels like he’s being torn apart. He needs it to stop, or he’ll die. He’ll actually die. He’s stubborn, but even stubbornness can only keep him alive for so long, through so much.

After all he has done to survive, to go like this would be...

‘Felix. Felix, stay awake. Look at me.’

Having Sylvain of all people see him like this was humiliating, Felix had thought earlier. But now he looks at him as he was told.

His heart sinks even lower when the eyes he sees aren’t sky blue.

‘It’s just a little more, Felix. You can do this.’

He has been saying that for a while, but Felix doesn’t know how much longer he can stand this before passing out.

Mercedes says something in a loud voice, but Felix isn’t paying attention. 

“Father.” Another droplet of cold sweat drips down his face. “Brother.”

But Rodrigue and Glenn aren’t here. The hand he’s holding is Sylvain’s, and the pain is still crossing his body. Someone is crying loudly, and it isn’t him, but he feels content enough to let go of the blankets under him. He can’t feel his own body, and his eyes are tired, eyelids heavy as stone. Sylvain told him to stay awake, but...

‘Felix. Felix!’ He’s so tired. And someone keeps crying and crying. Sylvain’s voice is more upbeat, but, is he crying or is Felix’s mind playing a trick on him? 

Nonetheless, Felix decides to give in to exhaustion, letting the sea of unconsciousness swallow him whole.

* * *

Sylvain stays by Felix’s side, leaving briefly a couple times when Mercedes calls him, only to return anxiously to his friend’s side later.

He holds Felix’s hand, searching for a pulse. He still breathes, his heart still beats. Even if Mercie confirmed he was out of danger, the possibility that Felix might slip away like this is terrifying. Sylvain doesn’t remember ever being this scared before.

After checking Felix’s pulse, he holds that hand with his own two, covering it and keeping it warm. His lips hover over Felix’s knuckles, kissing them slowly.

The baby’s a boy. He has bright blonde hair and clear eyes. “He looks a lot like His Majesty” had been Sylvain’s first thought when Mercedes called him to see the little thing. It still stings when he thinks about it.

Sylvain remembers it clearly, the moment he had arrived in Fraldarius territory, and Felix’s angry confession. ‘It’s the boar’s,’ he had said, unable to look Sylvain in the eyes. Angry, scared.

Sylvain had silently and selfishly wished it was his.

Felix makes a sound, and when Sylvain looks up, his eyes are cracked open. Sylvain’s heart jumps in his chest, and he leaves Felix’s hand at his side, getting up to hover over him. ‘Welcome back to the land of the living, Felix. That was one hell of a nap you took.’

Disoriented, his friend blinks, and clumsily tries to sit up, groaning. Sylvain helps, keeping him from losing his balance. ‘Easy, easy.’

‘...H-Hungry.’

‘Oh.’ Sylvain’s eyebrows arch up. ‘Alright, I’ll get you…’

‘Ngh. No.’ Felix pulls the blankets away, and barely manages to sit on the side of the bed. He still looks pale, and his eyes aren’t focusing properly. Sylvain tries to hold him softly by the shoulders.

‘Felix, I don’t think that’s a good-.’

‘Shut it,’ Felix growls, and his voice sounds weak. The way he slaps Sylvain’s hand away from his shoulder is also weak. His feet try to settle on the ground, and Felix pants as he gathers the energy to get up.

His knees give in almost instantly, however, and Sylvain quickly catches him.

‘Slow down,’ he says, frowning, but his voice is soft and low, ‘or you’re gonna hurt yourself, buddy.’

Felix scoffs but doesn’t say anything. For a while, they just stand glued to each other, Sylvain’s arms tightly wrapped around Felix’s shaking body, and he feels the temptation to kiss Felix’s hair and bury his nose in it. Despite being sweaty, dirty and disheveled, Felix is oddly beautiful. Has always been, really.

‘I’ll get you something from the kitchen. You stay here and rest properly.’

Felix, again, doesn’t say anything. It feels like his mind is somewhere else, at a place Sylvain can’t reach.

* * *

Mercedes brings the baby to Felix some hours later, wrapped in pristine white blankets. That moment is the first time an emotion that isn’t anger or exhaustion crosses Felix’s face since he woke up.

That emotion is fear.

It is rare to see Felix being scared of anything, or at least it used to be. Sylvain had read fear in his friend’s eyes many times ever since this whole ordeal started. Fear of death, maybe. But Felix had never been one to be terrified of death. Not his own, at least.

‘He looks like the boar,’ is the first thing Felix says. ‘Too much.’

Sylvain agrees in silence.

‘His eyes and hair could darken later,’ Mercedes mutters, trying to shed some positivity onto the situation. But Felix sighs in resignation.

‘I definitely didn’t have that hair as a baby, if my father was being sincere when he told me about it.’

The kid curls up in Felix’s arms, his head against his father’s chest. ‘Oh, Felix,’ Mercedes continues, changing the subject. ‘You still haven’t named him.’

‘Ah, right. Don’t you have like, a list of names around like fathers do?’

‘I don’t,’ Felix murmurs, and his fingers hesitantly stroke the baby’s head. But something’s on his mind, and both Mercedes and Sylvain notice it, standing in silence around the bed until Felix decides to say it. ‘Adrien. His name is Adrien.’

Sylvain smiles widely. ‘Awh, that’s a really cute name! For a moment there I thought you really weren’t gonna name him, Felix.’

His brown eyes stare at him, piercing him like they can see through the cracks of his smile.

Sylvain excuses himself out. The jealousy bubbling inside him is too shameful for even Felix to see.

As he walks out, his steps take him to the garden at the back of the house, and his mind goes over the past months he has spent at Fraldarius territory.

One of those memories sticks out now that the kid - Adrien - has been born.

He had been helping Felix get dressed for the day. Those last two months he barely walked outside of his room but Sylvain had convinced him to go for a stroll with him, somehow. Mercedes had supported the idea and was in the kitchen preparing a small picnic for the three of them.

And then the question had arisen in Sylvain’s mind.

‘Felix. What… are you going to do with the kid?’

His friend had sighed and stayed silent for so long Sylvain thought he wouldn’t get an answer.

‘It depends.’

‘On what?’

‘If they’re crestless or have the crest of Fraldarius, I’ll… probably keep them,’ Felix explained, adjusting a sleeve. ‘If they have the crest of Blaiddyd, the boar can keep it and do whatever he wants with it for all I care.’

Something about that wording made Sylvain’s stomach twist.

‘Why?’

‘I don’t want anything to do with a Blaiddyd anymore.’ That was all the explanation Felix gave him, no matter how much he had asked. He still feels sick when he remembers it.

It’s, thankfully, a good day to be in the garden. Sylvain sits under a tree, and lays his back against it for a much needed nap. However, despite the mildly warm air, and the exhaustion tugging at his eyelids, he can’t fall asleep -- instead, he stares at the sunlight leaking through the leaves.

* * *

Despite what Sylvain initially thought, it still took Felix a couple months to gather the guts to investigate if his child bears any crest. He had been avoiding that conversation, saying that the brat - as he called Adrien - was too young and too much of a crybaby to do that to him just yet.

Sylvain had mocked the attachment Felix already had towards the kid, but sometimes, he’d stare at his friend holding the sleeping child on his arms and notice the sheer tenderness in Felix’s stare, and be painfully aware that Dimitri wasn’t there. That Dimitri hadn’t been there like he was, and still isn’t.

It is him. Sylvain Jose Gautier. And yet…

And yet he knows that Felix doesn’t want him.

However, many of those feelings are put aside when the results of the crest investigation are given to him. He walks to Felix’s chambers with the kid in his arms, and Adrian stares at him with his big brown eyes. They will probably look like Felix’s in time, but that’s not what’s on Sylvain’s mind right now.

He knocks on Felix’s door.

‘Come in.’

His hand is on the doorknob, but it takes some seconds for him to twist it. The air feels heavy: Felix knows Sylvain is going to deliver him the news. And he can probably guess which news.

Still, Sylvain breathes in and makes his best smile. He can do this.

‘Good news!’ he says. ‘He’s a crestless little lad.’

‘Liar.’

The word falls over Sylvain like a bucket of cold water. ‘...Uh? I’m-’

‘Don’t insult my intelligence, or the years I’ve known you,’ Felix growls, and his eyes turn to the kid in Sylvain’s arms. ‘Tell me the truth, for fuck’s sake.’

Sylvain swallows thick, and his chest feels heavy. The crests. The stupid crests. This wasn’t supposed to happen again, to anyone else. Why does Felix of all people care about this now?

He believed in him.

‘He has… the crest of Blaiddyd.’

To Sylvain’s surprise, Felix smiles. It’s a half-assed, sarcastic smile. ‘Of course he has that damned thing.’

‘You could hide it,’ Sylvain says, as soon as Felix is done. ‘You could pretend he’s just...a crestless Fraldarius heir. You could-’

‘Sylvain.’ His voice sounds firm, and stops Sylvain’s banter. ‘Could you take care of him for a little longer?’

His eyes widen. ‘Yes. Sure. Why?’

‘I have to write a letter. To the boar.’

* * *

It has been now eight months since Felix disappeared into the depths of house Fraldarius.

He had made it very clear that he was retiring temporarily, and that he was alright, but that didn’t help much with Dimitri’s anxiety -- especially when more than half a year has passed with nothing but small reassurances from Felix that he was, indeed, not dying from any plague.

And now, Sylvain is standing in front of him, with a letter from Felix himself.

‘Did he ask that you explicitly deliver me this? Why not use a messenger?’

‘He didn’t want anyone else handling the letter, or so he told me. I… can understand why.’

Dimitri’s eye alternates between the wax sealed envelope with the Fraldarius coat of arms and the man standing in front of him. ‘I’ll read it now, then. Do you mind accompanying me?’

‘Sure, Your Majesty.’

And so Sylvain follows him to another, smaller room that he recognizes from playing around the castle with his childhood friends. Dimitri sits down in front of a desk, and swiftly opens the envelope.

Dimitri’s fingertips caress the letter before he starts reading. That’s indeed Felix’s handwriting. The lack of a proper salute at the start of the letter is also a Felix thing, exclusive to Dimitri.

_“Come to my territory as soon as you can. There’s something I have to give you. But you have to tell no one, or almost no one about where you’re going. I’d prefer this to be a secret._

_That’s partially why I chose Sylvain for this. He might be a fool, but I trust this one thing won’t slip from his stupid mouth._

_-Felix”_

‘That was brief.’ Dimitri frowns, and rereads the letter carefully. Something he needs to give him? ‘Do you know what this mysterious something is, Sylvain?’

‘I… have no idea, Your Majesty. He didn’t really show me.’

‘Well, that’s certainly odd. I’m not going to lie, it makes me curious. It also seems urgent.’

‘It is very urgent,’ Sylvain says, ‘from what he told me, anyway.’

‘I shall prepare for my departure as soon as possible, then. Thank you for your hard work, Sylvain.’ Dimitri puts a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder, and the latter’s smile becomes a little more stiff. ‘Now I will talk to Dedue about this. You can take a break.’

‘Thank you, Your Majesty. Will do.’

It still takes two weeks of work for Dimitri to solve everything that needs immediate solving, and then some more. Despite Dedue's assistance, Dimitri spends all his spare time working, and skips hours of sleep in favour of preparing for the trip.

Only Dedue and Sylvain know where he's going in the entire castle.

'You should rest, Dimitri. We depart tomorrow morning.'

'Give me just a moment to finish this, Dedue… We'll part tomorrow. I shall prepare properly.'

Dedue's eyes focus on a small blue box on Dimitri's desk. 'That's…'

'Y-Yes. I was… well.' Dimitri rubs the back of his neck, bashful. 'It depends on what mood he's in, but…'

Dedue smiles softly. 'You don't have to give me explanations, my friend.'

Dimitri laughs and strokes the box with his thumb. It's covered in dark blue velvet, the color of Felix's hair.

Dimitri stays up until morning that night, when he starts getting dressed for the trip. They depart at dawn, he and Sylvain, and Dedue stays behind at Dimitri's request to take care of the capital.

Due to the lack of sleep, Dimitri spends most of the days it takes to get to Fraldarius trying to nap. When he does, Sylvain spends whole minutes staring at him, and he doesn't need to use his usual upbeat smile anymore.

It takes him back to when he started noticing the thing between Dimitri and Felix. The thing in their relationship that was different and had stayed at such.

Those memories always make him feel sick. And as much as it pains him, looking at Dimitri alone makes him feel sick now.

He’s the worst, being jealous of his childhood friend’s incoming happiness, and he’s aware of it. It’s not like he can do anything about it, right? He at least can’t think of anything.

As they near Fraldarius territory, it’s harder and harder to put that smile on his face, while Dimitri’s excitement just becomes bigger and bigger. His face shines like it hasn’t since they were children, and Sylvain wonders why and how.

Maybe it’s true that love exists, and that it can singlehandedly make a person the happiest they’ve ever been. And maybe that is just a thing he isn’t meant to feel.

Sylvain scoffs out of nowhere. His introspection isn’t usually this sappy.

‘Sylvain?’

‘Ah, sorry, Your Majesty. I was just thinking that you look like a happy little kid.’

Dimitri laughs, closing his eye as he does. ‘It’s been a long while since Felix has actively wanted to see me. How could I not be excited?’

‘Yes, but… He just wants to, like, give you a thing, right?’

‘And I’m this happy just from being able to see his face again. Doesn’t matter if the encounter is brief.’

Sylvain doesn’t know a better way to reply than teasing Dimitri lightly, and hope that this situation comes and goes swiftly.

But life couldn’t possibly be this kind to him, could it?

Dimitri steps out of the carriage first when they arrive, walking excitedly to Felix’s door and leaving Sylvain behind. A maid opens it, much to Dimitri’s disappointment, but a part of him has already expected this. He takes off his jacket, offering it to the maid before thanking her for her service.

‘Where’s Duke Fraldarius?’

‘He’s in one of the guest rooms,’ she says. Dimitri raises an eyebrow. ‘Shall I take you there, Your Majesty?’

‘Yes. Thank you very much.’

His heart is beating so fast it might explode as he follows the woman. They walk familiar hallways, and Sylvain has stayed behind, probably on his way to the gardens, and Dimitri looks around with wonder as if it were his first time in this place.

He has missed it so much. He has missed Felix so much.

They arrive at the room right next to Felix’s, and Dimitri can hear a small noise and his lover’s voice from the inside. The maid knocks on the door. ‘Milord, His Majesty has arrived.’

Felix’s voice stops immediately. For a very long while, there’s absolute silence, and then there’s the sound of slow steps approaching the door.

Oddly enough, the maid doesn’t seem a stranger to this situation, and it makes worry arise in Dimitri’s chest. She steps aside, letting Felix be the one to open the door.

Before Dimitri can even see his face properly, he speaks, ‘You’re dismissed.’

The maid nods, leaving them alone, and Dimitri finally sees Felix properly. His hair is loose, longer than Dimitri remembers, messy over his shoulders. There’s an exhaustion in the way Felix looks at him that could only come from sleep deprivation, which is even more obvious from the bags under his eyes. His shirt is just a nightgown badly tucked into his pants.

Something is not right.

‘Felix.’ The emotion in Dimitri’s voice seems to annoy Felix.

‘Come in. And stop making that stupid face. I’m fine,’ he lies. As if Dimitri is stupid enough to believe there’s nothing wrong.

He, however, walks inside the room and closes the door behind him. His eyes explore the room and finally settle on a strange detail.

There’s a blue cradle by the bed. Dimitri recognizes it vaguely. Small baby sounds come from it.

Dimitri’s mind goes through too many scenarios and explanations until it settles on one, and the points start to connect. Those months of complete disappearance. Felix’s sorry state. The _thing_ he wanted to give him so badly.

‘Felix, is- is that…’

‘At least come closer to see him,’ he growls as he sits down on the bed.

Dimitri’s steps are slow and careful, as if he could spook the child with his presence alone. His hands grab the end of the cradle softly.

“He’s so small” is Dimitri’s first thought, before the tears start making his eye burn. Everything about this creature tugs at his heartstrings and it makes saying any word Dimitri can think of difficult.

‘Good Goddess,’ Felix mutters. His voice sounds significantly softer than before. ‘I just knew you’d start crying.’

Dimitri sniffs, a tear already falling down his cheek. ‘C-Can I… hold him?’

Felix sighs, getting up and bending over the cradle. His arms pick the kid up with extreme care, and, through the tears, Dimitri would swear Felix is smiling faintly.

‘Like this. You have to be sure his head is-’

But Dimitri doesn’t try to hold the boy. Instead, he pulls Felix into a hug, and leaves a myriad of small kisses on Felix’s hair.

‘I’m so happy,’ he sobs. ‘Felix, I’m so happy.’

Felix whines. ‘Y-You’re crushing me. Stop that.’

‘S-Sorry.’ The hug becomes lighter, but Dimitri is unable to let go of them just yet. ‘I just- Oh, Felix, please, tell me about this. What’s his name? When was he born? Is he…’

‘His name’s Adrien. Born under Lone moon, day 15th.’ Felix sighs, looking down at the creature in his arms. ‘He’s… completely healthy, so far, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘An early spring child…’ Dimitri laughs, and one of his hands stays on the small of Felix’s back, while the other strokes his lover’s hand, too scared to touch the child. It felt like a dream… ‘Adrien… What a beautiful name. Felix, this is wonderful. I have no words.’

‘Then shut it,’ Felix huffs. ‘You wanted to hold him, didn’t you? Do it like this. And try to not break his neck, boar.’

Dimitri pays no mind to Felix’s aggressive tone, and extends his arms. Adrien looks at him, brown eyes open wide, and Dimitri’s hands shake in fear. Is he scary? The last thing he’d want is to terrify his child…

Felix leaves Adrien on Dimitri’s arms and silently instructs him with the guidance of his hands on his lover’s. There is a second of blissful silence.

And then Adrien starts crying like his soul is being pulled out of his body.

‘Oh-’ Dimitri gasps, and his arms feel like jelly. ‘Oh no, oh no-’

‘Calm the FUCK down!’ Felix retorts, and Dimitri tries to stay still while he gets the kid back on his arms. ‘Now, now, brat… Shoo shoo.’

Dimitri observes Felix rock Adrien softly, the way he gives all his attention and care to the baby, and the tenderness in his eyes. The small, relieved smile that appears on his lips when Adrien starts calming down, curled up against his father’s chest.

Dimitri sees the future, the family he had longed for for so long right in front of his eyes.

‘Geesh. Guess you scared him with your boar face.’ Despite Felix’s resigned tone, Dimitri smiles. ‘He has to get used to you before you take him back to Fhirdiad.’

‘...Take him back?’

Felix suddenly isn’t looking at him, and the air between them thickens.

‘Didn’t you read the letter? I don’t want him.’

Dimitri doesn’t understand. There’s nothing in Felix’s words he could possibly understand.

‘Felix, I… How can you say that?’

‘Like I said just now. Take him away from me.’ Felix leaves the kid in his cradle and crosses his arms over his chest. ‘He’s been nothing but a nuisance these past months.’

‘You won’t call our child a _nuisance_, Felix.’

‘Too bad he’s not _our_ child, boar.’ he replies, looking at Dimitri directly in the eye. ‘It’s yours. And I don’t care what you do with him.’

The hurt in the king’s face is almost unbearable to watch, even more so when Dimitri speaks. ‘That’s not what you want. I know you better than to believe this.’

‘You don’t know shit about me.’

‘Oh, I do. I know that you keep pretending that you want nothing to do with me, that you hate me so much that you can’t even stand looking at my face,’ Dimitri says, voice seething. ‘And yet - you always come back. You always make me feel like there’s a way I can make you happy, and then… _Goddess_, Felix, what the hell do you want?!’

Felix’s breathing is heavy and quick, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw might snap.

Adrien starts crying again, and Dimitri notices Felix restraining himself from holding him up like he did before.

‘...Leave. Or he’ll never stop crying at your monstrous face.’

Dimitri stays still. ‘Since he has to get used to me, as you said -’ Adrien’s cry hurts his ears in a way that could make him burst into tears again. ‘I’ll stay for a while. I hope… I hope you have an answer for me by then.’

After that, Dimitri does leave, leaving a trail of uncomfortable feelings behind that he isn’t ready to face just yet.

Felix covers his eyes with one hand.

‘Stop,’ he begs, though he doesn’t know who he’s begging this from. ‘Stop.’

* * *

Dimitri is a man of his word, so he stays.

Despite Felix’s words, the soft-hearted beast walks into his room and slips under his blankets. His warmth has kept Felix warm through so many nights, and in the shelter of the almost absolute darkness, he doesn’t feel as terrified of said warmth as he’d do under plain daylight.

Dimitri kisses his hair. Felix looks up, and their lips meet. Dimitri’s mouth catches his in a long, slow kiss that suffocates him in warmth. It’s always like this. Felix always falls back into this, no matter how many times he hurts Dimitri with his words, or how many promises he makes to himself that there will be no next time, that he’s through with this.

Dimitri’s fingers run through his hair, untangling the knots carefully, massaging Felix’s scalp, and he leaves another kiss on Felix’s forehead. Felix sighs, resigned once more, and grabs Dimitri’s hair as the boar’s lips stroke the skin of his neck.

He turns his head, giving Dimitri more space to work with. Next to their bed, Adrien sleeps peacefully in his blue cradle.

‘I love you,’ Dimitri murmurs against his skin. ‘I love you, Felix.’

Felix has lost count of the times he has heard those words, just as many as the times he couldn’t reply to them. This is no different.

Even if he _wanted_ to say them, they wouldn’t come out.

‘Keep kissing me,’ is all he can manage. It is what Dimitri is used to, as well. He’s also resigned.

* * *

Sylvain isn't stupid, nor is he blind, and he can hear and see Dimitri slipping into Felix's bedroom almost every night. They had tried to be careful before, but this is different, Sylvain guesses. They aren’t in a royal palace full of nobles.

It’s just him and Felix’s service here.

During the day, there is no humanly way to separate Dimitri from Adrien, and Felix from Adrien as well. The king has set out on the mission to make the baby love him in a month, which has amused Sylvain at first, especially with Dimitri’s clumsy attempts to make the baby stop crying and guess why the crying was happening. Sometimes, Felix laughs briefly at those attempts, and that sound rings into Sylvain’s ears like a melody.

He wishes he could make Felix laugh and smile like that.

One morning, Dimitri has brought the kid to the garden where Adrien is experiencing what touching flowers and weeds feels like for the first time. Felix observes them from a distance, and everything about his body language says “tired”.

Sylvain feels terribly out of place in this family stamp, but something is tying him to this place, even if he really should go back home. He could always excuse it as knightly duties towards the king, anyway.

He sits by Felix’s side. ‘So, has His Majesty been trying for a spare?’

‘...You disgust me, Sylvain.’ Felix doesn’t even bother looking at him, still staring at Dimitri instead. Sylvain’s hands turn into fists. ‘We wouldn’t do that next to a baby.’

‘We?’

‘He might be closer to a wild boar than to a person,’ Felix explains, ‘but he still has some decency.’ He finally looks at Sylvain, even if it’s only sideways. ‘And why am I explaining this to you, anyway?’

‘I don’t know. But hearing you praise Dimitri is a whole event in itself.’

He looks back to the father and son playing in the garden. Adrien is pulling at Dimitri’s hair, and the latter makes a pained face. Felix scoffs. ‘I guess he’s not hateable all the time.’ After a single second of self reflection, Felix shakes his head. ‘Forget I said that.’

‘I’ll try my best, but… that was a really cute thing to say.’

‘I you tell anyone, I WILL kill you, Sylvain.’

‘Alright, alright… I’ll keep quiet. Promise.’

Felix doesn’t seem convinced, but he drops the subject, and his eyes go back to Adrien. It’s impossible to make him look away for more than some seconds, Sylvain decides, so he just stares at him in silence. The wind blows, swaying his hair and the loose blouse he’s wearing. With the flowery background, he looks like a bucolic painting of an angel.

There are so many things Sylvain wants to tell Felix. That he looks like an angel, albeit an angry and emotionally constipated one. That he’s the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. That this would be the first time his compliments are completely genuine. That he’s the only person that makes Sylvain feel love stories could be real. That he wants to kiss him until his lips are worn out.

All of those things, however, would sound like flattery in Felix’s ears at best.

'Felix!!' Dimitri calls. 'He's trying to eat the weeds!'

He sighs and gets up to walk closer to them. 'I wonder who he got that from.'

'But he can't differentiate them well yet!' Dimitri whines, panicked as usual, as he tries to get the weeds out of the kid's mouth.

Sylvain laughs, but decided to observe from a distance. If he's needed for anything, he'll get closer.

It's going to be like that from there on, isn't it? It has been for a while.

He sees Dimitri steal a kiss from Felix's lips, before smiling in relief. His hand stays on Felix's face, and Sylvain can't keep watching.

* * *

But the month passes by quickly, at least from Felix's perspective. He wakes up by Dimitri's side, before the sun is even up, and stares at him in the darkness of the room.

Dimitri has many nightmares, but tonight there has been none of that. Lately, in general, he seems to be sleeping fine. Felix is glad even if he wishes he weren't. He strokes his cheek with his thumb, and as it goes up that curve, his pad finds rougher skin. The scar of his eye.

Felix strokes it, even knowing it might wake Dimitri up and ruin the moment. The boar never explained how he got hurt in the eye. But Felix never asked him either, despite his own curiosity.

Afraid of waking him up, he stops, and moves slowly until he gets out of the bed. Dimitri groans, but nothing else happens.

Felix looks inside the cradle, and is surprised to find out Adrien is awake. 'What are you doing, brat…' he whispers, picking the child up. He doesn't start crying, oddly enough. 'You should be sleeping.'

With the baby in his arms, Felix sits back down on the bed, with a low sigh. Dimitri is taking him away tomorrow. And despite being entirely by Felix's request, there's a weight in his heart every time he realizes he won't be holding Adrien like this anymore.

"I don't want anything to do with a Blaiddyd anymore," he had told Sylvain.

What a chronic liar he is.

Without even realizing it, he starts humming a song he recalled both Rodrigue and Glenn singing. It isn't a lullaby, but a song about Loog, the King of Lions. It had been a favourite of Glenn's, especially this specific part.

It tastes so bitter in his mouth.

The sound of blankets moving behind him startles Felix just a little, and he squints into the darkness. 'Boar-'

'Please, keep singing,' Dimitri requests, as his arms surround Felix from behind and his face is buried in his shoulder, 'my dear.'

The endearment always makes Felix choke on his own words. And despite his best efforts, he can't keep singing. The song of Loog stays unfinished.

'...I was done, anyway. I can't stand that song.'

Dimitri sighs, maybe disappointed, but doesn't comment on it any further. He undoes the hug just as the sun begins to rise, and its light starts clearing the room.

The king gets up from the bed, and searches for something among the multiple things he brought with him a month ago. Felix doesn't look at him, focused on the sleepy child in his arms, on leaving him carefully on his cradle. "He should've been sleeping," Felix thinks. "Why wasn't he? And why didn't he call me?"

It's almost like a small betrayal on this brat's part, Felix thinks as he sits back down. Had he gotten so used to Dimitri that he had forgotten who had raised him to this point?

He is just a baby. Of course he did, Felix concludes unhappily. Adrien would forget these moments, and Felix… Would Felix be able to forget? Suddenly, he isn't so sure.

With a tired huff, Dimitri sits by his side, holding something in his hand that Felix's eyes haven't focused on just yet.

'Felix,' his voice says in a solemn tone that makes him tense up. 'There is something I must tell you.'

Felix frowns deeper. 'What?'

'Give me your hand.'

Felix scoffs but does as requested. A soft, dark blue box is placed on his palm, and Dimitri's rough hands close Felix's fingers around it.

For some reason it's getting harder to breathe as Felix realizes what's going on.

'This is not the way I wanted to go about it,' Dimitri clarifies, stroking Felix’s fingers with his own. 'But I'd like nothing more than to share a life with you, Felix. You… There is no other person that has ever made me feel this way. And you know it.'

Oh, Felix knows way too well. That's what terrifies him. Knowing that the boar is being as sincere and clear as he could, that this is no joke of his. That he is, again, offering him his whole heart, now more than ever.

And the sunlight is shining on his face, his golden hair messy, his eye sky blue and bright, his calloused hands around his. The face of Dimitri and the face of the monster Felix sees in him are blurred. He's expecting an answer and he's expecting Felix to open his heart.

But he won’t.

'...No.' He backs down and watches Dimitri's hopes fall and shatter into pieces as he puts the box with the ring away.

'Seriously, boar, what did you think you'd achieve?' The words pour out of his mouth before he can even think of them, and the hurt in Dimitri's expression becomes impossible to look at.

'...I had to try,' he finally says, with a defeated voice. 'You can keep it. And think about it if…'

'I'll throw it away,' Felix interrupts harshly.

'I assumed so. But it's yours now. Do with it as you please.'

It's like he's an actor reciting some dialogue he had memorized weeks ago. Mechanical, cold. He’s been ready for this answer since before he even came here, hasn’t he?

Then why did he even try?

'Take the stupid kid and leave. You're irritating me with your sentimentality.'

Dimitri nods, a gesture that manages to make Felix regret, for a second, everything he has said in the last weeks.

Later he stares at Dimitri as he and Sylvain make the last preparations for the trip. Felix is tired and cranky, and the other two don't ask much from him anyway.

The sun is high up in the sky when Dimitri stands on his door, Adrien in his arms, all things packed and neatly placed in the carriage. Sylvain stands behind Felix, having expressed his desire to stay for just a couple more days.

'Goodbye,' Dimitri mutters, 'Felix.'

Adrien is looking at Felix, as if he expects him to come as well. A single thought crosses Felix's mind, making his stomach twist.

_Don't take him away._

But those words never come out of his mouth. He replies with venom, instead, 'I hope I never have to see your face again.'

Dimitri's eye closes as he takes some air in. Both of them want to speak, both have so many things left unspoken despite that month together, and if only one of them pulled in the thread, maybe Dimitri would pull him into a hug, and just maybe they would feel a little less broken.

But they don't.

The door closes behind Felix, and he feels Sylvain's stare on the back of his neck.

'Felix?'

He doesn't answer. Sylvain follows him.

'Hey, are you sure… about this?'

They're walking to Felix's room, Sylvain notices.

'If you want, I can still grab my horse and rush to His Majesty's carriage to-'

'Shut up.'

The weakness in Felix's voice is like a punch in the gut. He opens the door to his room, attempting to be harsh about it. He wants the other side of the doorknob to crash into pieces against the wall.

It doesn't.

It angers Felix even more.

'Felix-'

His fist punches the wall, he drags it down against said surface, and his knuckles burn. He punches a mirror, and it stings. He throws it to the floor, just to watch it shatter more.

It feels good. He wants to break things until all of this anger goes away. There's some blood dripping from his hand, but he doesn't mind.

But someone does, and walks over the shattered glass to get to him. 'Felix! What's wrong with you?!'

He doesn't know what's wrong. He knows he's angry, that he wants to punch something, or someone, and that being physically hurt feels good. So when Sylvain grabs his wrists so hard it hurts, it angers Felix more, but it also feels good.

He wants to get in a fight. He needs it. This rage is bubbling up inside of him, and Sylvain seems like the perfect target.

And so he punches him. Sylvain looks more offended than surprised, his hand over the affected cheek.

'What the…?'

Sylvain frowns, and punches back. Felix's mind enters a haze of blindly punching and kicking as his friend pushes him around the room. His hands and face pulsate with pain, but it's good. It's distracting.

Finally, he stumbles and falls to the ground, and Sylvain straddles him. His hands grab Felix's blouse.

'Do you think you're the only one that is not alright?!' Felix breathes slowly, only half listening. 'Do you think you're the only one that is fucked up by this situation?! God FUCKING dammit, Felix!!'

Felix is tired. He's so tired he'd probably let Sylvain kill him if he decided to do it. With all the anger out, there's only an immense void in his chest that he can't explain.

He can't feel anything at all.

'...Felix…' Sylvain's voice softens, to the point where it breaks. 'At least reply to me, man. Get angry with me again. Or… Or something. Stop staring at me like that.'

Felix wishes he knew or cared about what Sylvain is saying, but it's like something finally broke inside of him. Sylvain strokes his hair, and Felix sighs, closing his eyes.

He's tired. He's so tired.

Sylvain's hands hold Felix's face, and the latter grimaces.

'Felix.' Their faces are so close, he can feel his breath on his lips. 'I love you.'

And that, that gives him the smallest spark of a feeling right before Sylvain kisses him.


	2. But I can't let go of you just yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man writing kids is hard. It's really damn hard.
> 
> Also light trigger warning for alcohol, misgendering and, well, fucked up mental health. But I bet y'all already expected that.

It had started even before the war ended, as a way to let off some steam. Felix couldn't remember exactly how it went, except for Dimitri's hands on his back and himself sitting on the table of the war council room and Dimitri whispering those words in his ear for the first time.

'I love you.'

The words had shaken him to his very core. Dimitri had said them every single time, even when the circumstances had kept him from going too far between Felix's legs.

_I love you._

Beasts are unable to love, but the boar managed to sound sincere enough to crack the walls around Felix, chip them away little by little. But never completely.

After the war, for some reason, it continued.

It still took a while until Dimitri was crowned king, and sometimes he just needed a way to release pent-up stress. Sometimes Felix didn't mind being dragged to his chambers in the dead of the night.

Dimitri would always say that he loved him. He'd always ask him to stay.

One day he started staying.

Dimitri would also say "I love you" in the mornings sometimes, while hugging Felix from behind and making use of his moments of weakness in the early morning. He'd kiss Felix's neck or shoulder, and mutter it with an adoration that made his chest sting.

No matter how many times he insulted him, or yelled at him, or pushed him away, Dimitri would always pull him back into his arms.

It truly was a nuisance. A vicious cycle of missing him, having him and promising himself he wouldn't fall for him again that only brought Felix grief.

And then the night after the coronation happened.

Dimitri had already been acting as the king of Faerghus, it was barely a matter of titles, things that Felix couldn't give less of a damn about. That night, Dimitri had once more placed a hand on the small of his back, silently asking for his company.

And Felix had given in.

The crown stood crooked on the king's head by the end of the night, and Felix was satisfied, still blissfully unaware of what would happen. Looking back, that might have been a sign, if he believed in such things.

Dimitri also muttered "I love you" that night, in a way Felix couldn't possibly forget.

When Felix went back home, he sometimes found himself missing those words.

He still misses them, even as another person is kissing him. Sylvain's kisses are different, but they're enough to distract him from the occasional void that threatens to swallow him into complete numbness.

Sometimes he has to face the void alone, but not this time.

Sylvain's mouth touches his ear, his cheek, and makes its way to Felix's neck. There, he pinches Felix's skin between his teeth, strong enough to make him groan.

Dimitri tried to not leave marks. Sylvain bruises him on purpose.

His hand pulls at Sylvain's soft hair, and Sylvain bites harder, sending a shiver down Felix's spine.

'D-Dimitri-'

Sylvain halts for a moment, and then bites again, harder than before. Felix's back arches, his teeth clenched.

It feels good enough.

Some time later, Sylvain falls asleep by his side, and Felix pushes him away just enough to sit up. He adjusts his blouse and puts his pants back on, and walks to the desk, where two glasses and a half empty bottle of liquor stare back at him.

With a last look at the sleeping man on his bed, he decides to pour himself some. He sits on the chair, leaning back on it, and takes a long sip. Some of it drips on the blouse.

In the silence of this room, his thoughts wander back to the ghost that has been haunting him for the last two years.

Goddess, it's really going to be two years since he left.

Felix takes another sip, and sighs tiredly. Dimitri's last letter is on the desk as well. Just seeing the wax seal with the Blaiddyd emblem on makes him feel sick and need yet another sip.

Is he sober enough to read this thing?

It's just a stupid baby. Even if he isn't a baby anymore. After that thought, his glass is empty. Felix rubs at his eyes, and leaves the letter in a drawer where other letters from Dimitri wait to be opened.

He's too tired.

Felix walks out of the room, carrying the almost empty bottle with him. There's so little left, he just chugs it and keeps walking. Stumbling, more like.

Alcohol used to burn on his tongue, all the way down to his throat. It used to be more pleasurable and take less time to act on him, but now his body is used to it.

It had all gone downhill ever since he got his first letter from the boar after he took Adrien away.

The prince of Faerghus. Adrien. His Adrien.

Dimitri had changed his name, not long after taking him away. Vadim Adrien Blaiddyd.

He isn't his Adrien anymore. He probably never was. And despite his best efforts to not care, he cares.

He smashes the bottle against the wall, and observes the multiple pieces of glass on the floor as if they have the answers to his problems. How to stop caring about a child he hasn't seen in two years, that probably doesn't remember him?

He doesn't know for how long he's been staring at them, but Sylvain is behind him in the corridor. '...Felix.'

'I was… going to grab another bottle.'

'I'll go get one.' Sylvain walks up to him, and strokes Felix's cheek. He slaps his hand away as usual. 'What do you want?'

'Wine. I guess.'

'Very romantic of you, Felix.' Sylvain winks, and he scowls. 'Go back to the bed. You need rest.'

Felix doesn't know about that, since his exhaustion is chronic at this point, but he does as told. Sylvain watches him go, steps slow and unsteady, and something inside him hurts. Maybe he shouldn't grab that wine bottle in the end, but he does nonetheless.

This mess is, partially, his fault.

Felix had rejected him after that first kiss. He had pushed him away, making a strange face. Meanwhile, Sylvain had surprised himself. Saying those three words and actually meaning them wasn't something he had done before.

Felix just does that to him, ever since he could remember. When they were around ten and twelve years old respectively, Sylvain recalls he fought someone whose face he couldn’t even remember, because they were calling Felix things.

“Little girl” one of them had said. Sylvain had tensed up immediately, and soon enough he had gotten in a fight with a guy way too big for him. But it was worth it, it had always been. Even now, it is.

‘I’m sorry,’ Felix had told him, eyes overflown by tears as he tried to patch up his wounds. He used to cry a lot more back then. ‘I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘What are you going on about?!’ Sylvain had been angry, offended even. ‘That’s their damn problem, not yours.’

He had rubbed the tears away from Felix’s face, ignoring the pain of his own knuckles, and stared at the flushed face underneath them, framed by his then shorter blue and wavy hair. Sylvain remembered thinking that face was really pretty, and that he wanted to kiss his cheek.

But Felix disliked the word “pretty” deeply, and still does.

He grabs a single bottle of wine, and looks at the liquid inside, mind lost in their childhood memories and in questions on how the hell they got to this point, and if he should keep indulging in Felix’s moment of weakness.

He had tried so hard to convince himself that this was good for both of them, but the truth is that Felix is falling apart.

He leaves the bottle in its place, and comes back empty-handed. When he walks inside the room, Felix is in front of his desk, with a candle on it and a letter on his hand. Sylvain knows that seal, who it belongs to.

The Blaiddyd seal.

‘Felix?’

He barely reacts to Sylvian’s sudden appearance. ‘I was thinking of burning it.’

‘Do it,’ Sylvain replies, not without a sting of guilt in his chest. ‘If it will make you feel better.’

Felix rubs his lips with his thumb, pensive. ‘...Maybe later.’ Before his friend can say anything, Felix’s eyebrow arches up. ‘Where’s the wine?’

‘Ah, so that was it! I’m afraid I forgot. I got to the kitchen and couldn’t remember what it was that you wanted.’

Felix sighs, and Sylvain doesn’t know if he believes him or not. Probably not, since it seems Felix has a sixth sense when it comes to seeing through all his lies. ‘It’s fine,’ he huffs, looking back at the letter. ‘I’ll go get more later.’

‘Maybe we could do something else?’

‘Like what?’ There’s that angry expression again, but Sylvain doesn’t back down.

‘Like… go for a ride together. I think you need some fresh air, Felix. And what better company than your best friend’s?’ Felix’s doubtful face wounds him. ‘Your… friend with benefits?’ Felix shrugs. ‘Anyway. What do you think about that plan?’

‘I guess. As long as you don’t start flirting with any woman we find… or the horses, for that matter.’

‘Felix, please! I’d never-’

‘You do that all the time. Being third wheeled is tiring, even more when it’s with you. But what would you know about that?’

Plenty. He knows plenty about that feeling now that he is the thing Felix runs to when he thinks about Dimitri.

He swallows his own words before they can even come out. ‘Alright, I promise I’ll do my best…’

‘Your promises are worth nothing.’

The harshness of his words almost breaks the façade on Sylvain’s face, but he smiles again, slowly. ‘They really aren’t… But I will try my best to at least be tolerable company. Is that enough?’

‘For now.’

Sylvain goes back to the bed, planning to go on that stroll after he wakes up. Felix, despite his own exhaustion, stays awake, looking at that letter. The third one Dimitri sent him, the first one since the name change. Felix had been so deeply betrayed by that simple gesture. Who was he to change the name of _his_ kid?

His father. And the man who is going to raise him. Not the man that had abandoned him.

Truth hurts more than Felix expects it to.

He gets up, and opens a drawer in his nightstand, where he searches for a small knife. When he finds it, he goes back to the desk, and opens the letter.

The start itself is like a punch in the gut.

_“To Felix Hugo Fraldarius, my beloved:”_

Felix curses in a low voice, and pushes his hair out of his face, taking a minute to prepare himself to keep reading. He’s not in the best state to do it, but Dimitri’s handwriting is clean and elegant as always, easy to the eye.

_“I’m sure you’ve received the news: The child’s name will officially be Vadim Adrien Blaiddyd. I thought it proper to offer him one of my own, so that way he’ll have a little of both of us in his very name._

_I told you in previous letters that he cries a lot more here than he used to back in Fraldarius, and I stand by my theory that he misses you, just as much as I do. I’m getting better and better at differentiating the reasons why he cries most of the time. I hope I’m good enough of a father for him._

_He got sick some weeks ago, but he’s back to full health now. I’ve been told babies and toddlers can get sick very often, so it might be a sign that our child is actually plenty strong. I don’t think it’s possible for my heart to adore this child any more than I already do, but everytime I look at him I doubt myself again.”_

The next sentence is written in shakier handwriting, full of hesitant, small ink circles.

_“Sometimes I wonder if I deserve him at all.”_

You don’t, Felix thinks. If Dimitri were in front of him this instant, he’d tell him that he’s a beast. That he doesn’t deserve this. That he doesn’t have the right to make Felix feel like this again.

He has no right to make him feel this longing again, after more than two years of ignoring his and Adrien’s existence as much as he possibly could.

When Sylvain wakes up, Felix is still reading the letters, or trying to. Sylvain goes over and puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly, and startles him.

‘Hey,’ he mutters. ‘Didn’t you rest?’

‘...I didn’t.’

‘Felix…’ His eyes wander to the letter on Felix’s desk, and his eyes catch a single sentence before Felix puts the letter back in its envelope.

_“I can’t wait for the moment when I can hold you in my arms again.”_

Sylvain’s first impulse is to put his fingers under Felix’s chin and lift his head to kiss him. Tearing his gaze and thoughts away from the letter in the envelope. It’s a brief kiss, but Felix returns it, and that’s all the validation Sylvain needs for now.

‘We had a date, remember? Horse riding and all that.’ He smiles innocently, stroking Felix’s face before he puts his hand away.

‘Yes, yes. Don’t call it a date.’ Felix closes the envelope and puts it in the drawer where all the others rest. Sylvain doesn’t remember seeing so many being open before. ‘What?’

‘Weren’t you planning on burning those?’

‘Do you care?’ Felix looks bored with his concern as he stands up to prepare his clothes for their “date”.

‘I… don’t, of course. I was just sure you were going to do it.’

‘If you don’t care, just shut up and get properly dressed.’ There’s a familiar irritation in Felix’s voice. An “I don’t want to talk about it” that keeps Sylvain from asking again.

They get ready in silence, their backs turned against the other, even though they know each other’s bodies like their own. Autumn is getting colder by the second, as it usually does, so they choose warm clothing.

Sylvain turns around just in time to see Felix’s hands reaching his own hair.

‘Wait. Let me do it.’ Felix blinks, but stays still, and Sylvain’s fingers dive in his dark blue hair. He grabs a comb, and runs its teeth down Felix’s hair, careful to not pull at it. Only then, he pulls it up to make a bun, and grabs one of his friend’s ribbons to tie it. ‘This dark blue bends with your hair, you know. You need something more… contrasting.’

‘I don’t need to stand out, Sylvain. And so much hassle for a bun…’ Felix sighs.

‘Wait, let me just… take a look at you.’ He pushes Felix’s head back softly, and stares into his clear brown eyes before leaning down to leave a touch of his own lips on his. ‘Now you’re all set.’

Felix grimaces, but deep down Sylvain hopes these gestures will one day convince him that his kisses and compliments are genuine. 

* * *

Felix’s perception of time has gotten strange lately, as he has lost any kind of daily routine in the last two years. When they walk outside, holding the reins of their horses, it’s cloudy, and it feels like it’s going to snow, and Felix feels like Fraldarius has become a territory out of time ever since Adrien left.

His eyes get lost in the horizon, as his thoughts wander beyond that, following the origin of those words written down in black ink. Is Adrien happy, at this very moment? Is it possible that he feels that his other father misses him despite his best efforts?

Probably not. Why does he keep asking these foolish questions anyway? They always end in the same conclusion.

His horse walks by Sylvain’s horse’s side, following Sylvain’s orders at this point. The fresh air strokes Felix’s face, and the few strands of hair that have started to fall on his face, and it alleviates his chronic headache. It doesn’t feel bad. Maybe Sylvain was right for once and he needed something like this.

He remembers having these kinds of strolls with Dimitri, supervised by Glenn in the distance, whenever the prince came to visit. Sometimes there would be snow, and the sounds of the horse's steps on it would be buried under Dimitri’s clear, happy laugh.

That Dimitri has been gone for a lot of time now. And so has Adrien. Felix has missed out on so much, on his first words, on him learning how to walk, his first two birthdays. Does he have any right to go back now, and try to be with him? It doesn’t matter. He makes a horrible dad. And the boar only wants him to fulfill his stupid fantasy of a big happy family, anyway. Not like he feels anything but disdain for him. 

‘Felix? Are you alright?’

Felix rubs his eyes with one gloved hand. He isn’t crying, but it feels like it. ‘Tired.’

Sylvain nods. ‘Let’s head back.’

‘Let’s.’ Felix sighs, and their horses turn to the opposite direction. As they go back home, some snow starts falling, and he doesn’t mind it. Is this the first snow of the season? Could be.

Before they arrive home, Felix looks back one last time, in the direction where Fhirdiad is. There are at least five letters left for him to read back at his desk, and the ones he just read haunt his mind again.

All those things he missed out on, would he be able to live with them? Is he so weak to regret something like that for the rest of his life?

What is wrong with him?

_ It’s just a kid, he reminds himself. _

A kid that won’t even remember him.

* * *

Dimitri wakes up covered in sweat, his heart beating furiously in his chest, his mind foggy and filled with vanishing images of his latest nightmare.

He knows there was blood, and he knows Vadim was there, but he doesn’t want to remember it. He pulls away the blankets covering him, and pulls at his shirt’s neck, aching for air. 

“This is fine,” he thinks to himself, another hand on his chest. His hair is sweaty, glued to his face. He bends over himself. “It’s fine. Everything is alright, Dimitri.”

He pulls his hair back, looking at the darkness in his room, and rushes to open the curtains, letting some moonlight in. His bedroom is the same as always. There’s no blood, no corpses, no screams. It’s peaceful and quiet.

Vadim. He has to check if he’s alright.

Dimitri grabs the first warm cape he finds and puts it over his shoulders, walking outside of the room. The carpet in the corridor mitigates the sound of his steps, but it also could do so with someone else’s, so Dimitri stays alert.

He arrives at Vadim’s door, and takes some air in before opening it.

Dimitri walks inside, closing the door with the bare minimum noise. Vadim’s low bed is placed by the window, so he can see a little of his sleepy face even before he gets close. His cheeks are so puffy, he always feels the need to pinch them.

Just looking at him, and knowing he’s safe, fills Dimitri with positive emotion, and the nightmare is quickly forgotten. Now that the anxiety of the nightmare is gone, Dimitri yawns, and strokes Vadim’s golden hair carefully.

He tries to fight a giggle. His kid sleeps like a log, just like papa used to.

Dimitri leans his body against the wall, and lets his eyelids fall for just a small second.

He dreams of Felix and Adrien this time, playing in the same garden as they did in what it feels like an eternity ago. His lover is smiling tenderly as the child shows him a toy, a smile that Dimitri has been missing for years now. In this dream, it’s early spring, Adrien’s birthday, and somehow the trees are already in bloom, flower petals falling on Felix’s loose hair, and this garden expands to the horizon line.

Dimitri sits Adrien on his lap, and Felix moves to his side, carefully watching over the kid. It feels too good to be real, but Dimitri decides to drown in this feeling unabashedly, laying his back on the grass, taking in the smell of spring and the perfume that reminds him of house Fraldarius. Of him.

Felix’s eyes meet his, light brown and beautiful as they had ever been, mocking him gently. Dimitri wants to kiss him.

When he wakes up, those very brown eyes are staring at him. Dim sunlight comes from the window behind the kid. Dimitri needs a second to realize it’s Vadim looking at him, with his squinting sleepy eyes and disastrous hair.

‘Papa?’

‘Oh, good morning, sweetheart.’ Dimitri yawns, sitting up. ‘Papa fell asleep here…’

‘Good moning.’ The kids yawns with him, and extends his arms to him.

Dimitri stretches before picking him up in his arms and leaving a kiss on his cheek. ‘Well, Vadim, it’s time you-’

A muffled voice comes from outside the room, and father and son both tilt their heads in confusion. That voice gets closer to Vadim’s room, and the door opens rather abruptly. The person behind it is, thankfully, him.

‘Your Majesty?!’ Dedue frowns, but sighs in relief when he sees the king and the prince standing in the middle of the room. ‘Ah, finally. You weren’t in your chambers.’

Dimitri smiles, brows furrowed together as a sign of apology. ‘Sorry, Dedue.’

When Dimitri turns to him, Vadim finally sees clearly who the intruder in his room is, and he starts to squirm in his father’s arms. ‘Dedu! Dedu!’

‘Good morning to you as well, Your Highness,’ Dedue concedes, with a small smile, before looking back at Dimitri. ‘Well, it’s a relief that you were here.’

‘Papa sleeps here!’ Vadim says, before Dimitri can even open his mouth to find an excuse.

‘By the Goddess, Vadim,’ he scolds, ‘you didn’t even wish Dedue a good morning.’

‘There’s no need, Your Majesty. You should prepare for today’s events.’

Dimitri nods. ‘I should indeed, it seems to have gotten late. Can I entrust getting him ready to you?’

‘Of course.’ He carefully takes Vadim in his arms.

‘Thank you, my friend.’

Dedue watches him go, and sighs, leaving the prince on the floor on his own feet. As they select the clothes together - which consists mostly of Dedue letting Vadim choose between some options - his memory goes back two years, when his king had arrived at the castle from that mysterious trip to Fraldarius with a baby in his arms.

Dedue had been so worried. He didn’t trust duke Fraldarius’ strange note, but trusted Dimitri’s decisions. And then he had come back, safe and sound, with a small creature wrapped in blue and white blankets.

‘This is my son, Dedue,’ he had said, his eye shining with sheer happiness whenever he looked at the child. ‘His name, for now, is just Adrien. But I wish to give him a name as well...’

And so, when his initial surprise passed, Dedue had helped him search for the perfect name to accompany the one he had been given at birth.

To this day, Dimitri has been lovestruck with his son, spending all of his spare time with him, and caring for him in ways nobility considered improper for a king. He wanted to dress the child himself, eat with him, and play with him at least once every day, and even if sometimes it wasn’t possible due to kingly duties, he’d always stretch his agenda as much as possible to make it happen.

Dedue understands the feeling to a degree. His own affection for the little prince of Faerghus aside, he knows Dimitri had been longing for a family, something he hadn’t given much of a thought due to the work it took to start rebuilding the kingdom.

And then, duke Fraldarius…

‘Done!’ the prince says, interrupting his line of thought. ‘Dedu!’

‘My apologies. I was distracted,’ he apologizes, and examines the kid’s clothing. ‘Everything seems to be in order, yes. Let’s fix your hair and go meet your father.’

Vadim’s hair is short, wavy mess of blond, that gets even messier after a good night’s sleep. So much that, after a while, Dedue is having trouble combing some curls down without being too harsh on Vadim’s scalp.

How does Dimitri do this almost every morning?

They finally walk outside of the kid’s room, and Dedue observes Vadim trying to walk by himself with mild amusement. He reaches for Dedue’s hand after a while, and he gladly bends down to offer him a finger to cling to.

A maid passes by, and Dedue clears his throat. ‘Excuse me. Do you happen to know where His Majesty is?’

‘There was an urgent matter he had to attend, if I recall correctly.’ As she answers, Vadim hides behind Dedue, and his eyes fixate on something. ‘A letter, I think.’

‘Hungry…’ Vadim says in the softest murmur, and the maid’s expression softens.

Dedue, however, frowns at these news as he gently pats Vadim’s head. ‘Understood. Thank you.’ He bows, before picking the prince up from the ground. ‘Looks like your father will be late for breakfast.’

He pouts, probably out of hunger more than anything else, and his eyes start to tear up.

_Oh dear_, Dedue thinks, before deciding to rush to the dining hall.

* * *

Dimitri shows up in the dining hall soon after Vadim starts eating his breakfast while sitting on Dedue’s lap. He’s getting a better grip on _how to eat without making a massive disaster_, and both the king and his right hand man appreciate it. 

‘Please forgive me, Dedue,’ he says, sitting by Dedue’s side. Vadim starts asking to sit on his father’s lap instead, and Dimitri smiles briefly before pulling the child to him. ‘There was something slightly urgent I had to attend.’

‘It’s understandable.’ He doesn’t mind taking care of the little prince sometimes, and Dimitri should know that by this point. ‘What was it?’

‘New revolts in old Empire territory. Nothing really new, but...’ Dedue nods, keeping an eye on the young prince, who’s fidgeting with a slice of fruit. ‘Oh, and there’s… another thing.’

Dedue tilts his head, curious. Suddenly, Dimitri’s whole expression changes, his worried frown becoming an excited smile. ‘What is it?’

‘A letter. From Felix.’

‘From duke Fraldarius?’

It has been more than a year, maybe two since he had last communicated with the king, despite Dimitri’s constant letters. Dedue’s gaze immediately goes back to the prince, slightly worried. From what Dimitri has told him, Felix had said he didn’t want any responsibility of the child. He had left it up to Dimitri and that was it. And despite being cold, his behavior had been consistent at least.

What could have changed that man’s mind?

‘Yes. He informed me he would be visiting Fhirdiad around the middle of the next Lone Moon.’

That is a very specific, and very important date, Dedue notices. ‘Prince Vadim’s birthday?’

Dimitri nods, his smile even wider with… hope? Excitement? ‘Indeed.’

It is good, seeing him in such high spirits after how tiring Vadim’s first and second years of life have been, but Dedue can’t help but feel wary of this. It is a similar feeling to what he had felt years ago, when Dimitri got the mysterious letter, and that time had turned out…

He wishes he could understand that man better.

‘It’s still some months away, sure. And I must focus on more important matters first.’ Like those revolts he mentioned before. ‘But… it fills me with indescribable happiness, just knowing he’ll come to see Vadim.’

The kid looks up when he hears his name, and Dimitri chuckles before kissing his forehead and grabbing a napkin to clean his face and hands.

In his mind, preparations for the little prince’s birthday are already being made.

* * *

He knows the way to Fhirdiad from Fraldarius like he knows that the color of the sky is blue, or the order of the seasons. It comes to him naturally, after a childhood and adolescence of making his way there: He has memorized the stops in the way, how long it takes to get there, the vegetation and villages on the way. 

Although some of the scenery has changed due to the war, he can still sense in his bones when he’s about to arrive to Fhirdiad. And right now, they’re midway there. It’s the 12th day of the Lone Moon, and they’re late to when Felix wanted to arrive. That, however, is his fault. 

Because he had been staring at the void for two entire days, even when everything should’ve been ready for the trip to Fhirdiad. And everything had been ready but him. 

Even now, he could stop the carriage, tell them to turn around, and go back to his dimly lit room, and drown in his own poison of self pity and anger like he has for the last two years.

But he doesn’t, even if his mind brings it up almost constantly. He shouldn’t. He can’t. It’s not about Dimitri, but about him. The words in Dimitri’s letters are engraved in his mind, of all the things he hasn’t seen, of his blonde curls of hair, of his shy personality, his likeness for fruits, his small voice. Felix seems to have memorized every little thing Dimitri has ever said about Adrien in his letters, and all of them are like a needle piercing his heart, slowly but steadily.

Felix bends over himself and breathes. His mind tells him to back down, to flee to the ends of Fódlan and never think about this again. Forgetting couldn’t possibly be so hard, could it? Felix scoffs at himself. If it were that easy, he’d have been able to do that already.

He hasn’t bought a present, he realizes. He’s not one for birthdays, but this would be the least suspicious day to visit the royal family apart of Dimitri’s own birthday or the anniversary of Faerghus’s founding. It isn’t the only day he could have come.

But he chose this one, and he doesn’t have a present for Adrien, and Adrien is barely going to be a three-year-old kid that will have no memories of some stranger arriving at his birthday party without a present. He’s already going to be drowned in gifts, so really, does it matter?

Apparently it does, because in their next stop, the last before Fhirdiad, Felix isn’t supposed to leave the inn, but he does anyway, walking through the narrow roads of this small town. When he arrives at the market, the sun is closer to the horizon like than he’d like, but there are still merchants gathering in the plaza, selling their last stock for the day.

Felix scans the place one, two, up to three times, in search of something a three-year-old boy he hasn’t seen in years could like. Suddenly he’s reminded of how terrible he is at picking gifts. But there must be something - he doesn’t want to go to Fhirdiad empty handed, and he doesn’t want to buy the present there either. 

And then he sees it. One thing that could work. He rushes to the merchant’s stand, frowning so deeply it scares the woman in charge. 

‘How much for that one?’ he asks curtly.

The merchant says a price, still trying to recover from that scare. “What’s up with him?”, she’s probably thinking. Even if Felix wanted to explain, which he doesn’t, he’s in a hurry. He has to be well rested for what’s left of the trip, so he leaves a small bag of coins in front of her and grabs the wooden object.

‘That should suffice,’ he says, when the merchant blinks at the quantity of money he just gave her for that thing.

‘I-It does, good sir. Thank you.’

Like lightning, Felix hurries back to the inn and to his room, locking the door and leaving the present on his bed. For some reason, it’s embarrassing to think someone could see it and tease him about it. Why is he embarrassed of some stranger teasing him about that present? He could just beat them senseless if that were to happen.

Well, maybe beating someone up is too much, but the thought relaxes Felix anyway. He grabs one of the wine bottles he had requested to be left in his room, and the feeling of the liquid sliding down his throat is even more relaxing. He couldn’t drink that much on his way here. The dizzy, airheaded feeling alcohol gives him is still the most comfortable state he could be in, even if it’s getting less effective.

At some point, he’s lying down on the inn’s bed, Adrien’s present by his side, and his mind is wandering away to some memory he had kept shut for all this time.

It had happened back when he was a child, and Glenn had been betrothed to Ingrid. Felix’s friendship with her hadn’t changed, nor had his relationship with Glenn, but he was intrigued. Having Ingrid as his “sister-in-law” sounded strange.

He remembered his father laughing, and asking a simple question in a lighthearted tone. ‘And who would you marry, Felix?’ 

(Rodrigue saying his name, his actual name, still gave him a burst of happiness in his chest back then.)

He had thought about it for what seemed like a while, but in reality was just some seconds, even if the answer had been clear to him since the moment father had asked. He had been the only answer back then, really. 

‘D-Dima,’ he had said, voice almost inaudible. ‘Because he’s my best friend.’

Because he was the boy Felix had had a small crush on since not so long ago. Because Dimitri’s smile was sweet and because he made Felix feel special. Because his hugs felt different than other people’s and he always wanted to be by his side because Dimitri was fun, because they clicked like a two-piece puzzle.

‘I’m glad to see you two are such good friends,’ Rodrigue had said, after a small pause.

It is one of those memories Felix doesn’t know why he remembers so clearly, so textually. The edges of it are blurred, but the words are clear as if he had heard them yesterday.

What would his younger self think if he knew Felix had rejected Dimitri’s heartfelt confessions of love, and his sincere proposal to him? That he had pushed him away, back to Fhirdiad, with the person he treasured the most? 

That Felix would probably cry.

__

* * *

  
It happens at home, in Fhirdiad. He’s holding dad’s hand, a bit too tired from all the activities of the day, and thinking about what fairytale or story he’s going to ask dad to tell him tonight.

But then dad stops walking, because there’s a man in the corridor. The man and dad stare at each other for a long time, so much that he doesn’t know what to do besides hiding behind dad’s legs. But this person doesn’t feel all that strange, and that itself is strange.

‘...You came,’ dad says, and the stranger’s face scrunches up in a funny way.

‘I said I would. So.’ The stranger looks at him, but he can’t understand the face he’s making now. It looks like the one he makes when his stomach is upset, but…

‘Vadim,’ his dad calls him, and he looks up. ‘...Adrien. This… is Felix.’

Felix. He repeats it out loud. Dad drags him closer to the stranger, tugging at his hand, and the stranger squats down to meet his eyes.

They’re brown, and they remind Adrien of something.

‘So this is the piglet prince.’

‘Felix!’ dad’s voice startles him. ‘Do not call our… him, that.’

‘I think he likes it.’ The man with brown eyes named Felix smiles, and ruffles his hair. ‘Right, piglet prince?’

Adrien giggles, and dad sighs. Felix looks happy to hear him laugh.

‘Anyway, piglet. I know your birthday is tomorrow but… Bah. I’ll just give it to you now.’ Felix leaves something on his hands. It’s a sword, like the one he has seen the knights use, but brown and light instead.

Dad starts laughing. ‘I can’t - I can’t believe you’d give him a wooden sword, of all things-’

Felix makes an angry sound. ‘I assumed that, in your extreme incompetence, you wouldn’t have started his training yet. So I’m taking matters into my own hands.’

Dad keeps laughing, and Felix keeps getting angrier. Adrien tugs at his sleeve, getting his attention. ‘What is it, piglet?’

‘I like it a lot.’

Felix’s eyes open wide, and he smiles again. ‘...I’m glad to hear that. Past tomorrow… I’ll teach you how to use it.’

‘Tomorrow!’ Adrien interrupts, hugging the sword against his chest. ‘Please?’

Felix looks at him for what feels like a long time. He finally nods as he holds one of Adrien’s tiny hands with his own, like they’re making a pact. Adrien notices Felix's hand is shaking. ‘Tomorrow, then.’ 


	3. I once crossed the white line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning for violence. Dimitri gets angery.

‘Move your right foot. Like this.’

The kid nods, imitating Felix’s movement clumsily. He, however, doesn't get mad and simply adjusts the leg himself.

'That's better.'

He looks at Adrien who, despite his tiny size, is frowning with deep concentration. As focused as a three year old could be.

Felix smiles so softly he feels like another person for a second.

And then he hears a way too familiar cracking sound, and a pained whine from Adrien that tears something in his chest.

'What-'

The hilt of the sword is cracked. How in hell does a three year old break a wooden sword-?

Goddammit, Dimitri.

'Adrien. Adrien, show me your hand.' His kid keeps crying, and Felix notices a chip stabbing his hand. He's lucky it was only the one, and that it's not deep, but it still makes his stomach squirm to hear him cry. 'Calm down.'

Adrien nods, but he keeps shaking and crying as Felix holds his hand and makes an attempt at taking out the chip. And people are gathering around them now, because the prince is hurt and Goddess forbid a kid ever gets hurt.

Felix groans, and throws away the chip, still holding Adrien's trembling hand, which is now bleeding.

Maybe he shouldn't be approaching this in the same way as he would a wounded soldier in a war, now that he thinks about it.

'Stop crying. It won't kill you.'

Adrien makes an attempt at stopping his tears, and Felix will have to at least accept that. He had learned some healing spells during the war, but he isn’t sure if he remembers them correctly. Just a basic heal spell should work, though…

His fingers hover over Adrien’s wound, and the kid stares at his own skin as it closes with increasing fascination. A small scar is left, probably because of Felix’s lack of practice with magic since the war ended, but Adrien has stopped crying for the most part.

‘See,’ Felix mutters, smiling. ‘It’s fine now.’

Adrien nods a couple times, his face still full of tears and eyes swollen. ‘Y-Yes… Thank you.’

‘Now, go clean your face.’

Adrien nods again and wipes away some tears and snot before rushing to the entrance of the training grounds, where the collides against a familiar figure. ‘P-Papa!’

‘It seems like all that panic was for nothing,’ Dimitri says, and Felix grimaces. Since when has he been staring? ‘Are you hurt, Vadim?’

‘Nu-uh!’ And he raises his hand to Dimitri, showing off his scar. ‘Look! It’s not hurty anymore.’

‘Well, that’s good.’ Dimitri leans down and kisses said scar, and pats his son’s head as he gets back up. ‘Where were you going?’

‘I told him to go clean his face,’ Felix interrupts. ‘He looks like a goblin. And what do you want, boar?’

‘I was told Adrien had been hurt during your training together, and I feared something grave might’ve happened.’ Felix groans. Nothing would’ve happened to the kid under his eyes, but Dimitri doesn’t need to know that. ‘And, also…’

The boar king walks dangerously close to him, and Felix stands up, defensive, even if he knows he won’t match this man in presence or size ever in his life.

‘I need to speak with you.’

Felix already knows what this is about, and they both look at the kid who’s still staring at them from the entrance. And both of them know this conversation isn’t for a small kid’s eyes or ears.

‘Later.’ Felix slips past Dimitri, and he doesn’t try to stop him. There will be other chances.

And the chance presents itself past midday. After the feast held in celebration for the prince’s birthday, Dimitri carries the child to bed for a short nap, and gives a small kiss to his forehead and a last glance at that small scar on his hand before leaving him to dream in his room.

As he closes the door, Felix’s trembling hands at the meal come to mind, alongside the events of the previous night he wanted to discuss this morning. And so he starts his search for Felix around the castle, finding him, as usual, in the training grounds, surrounded by other soldiers. Some of them are young, aching for a lesson from the Shield of Faerghus's successor himself, but Dimitri would bet his right hand the nickname doesn't please Felix too much.

Maybe that's why he's already scowling, even before the other occupants of the place notice the king and begin bowing respectfully.

'Good afternoon. It's good to see everyone in good spirits, but please do not overexert yourselves.'

'Yes, Your Majesty!'

Felix stays silent, looking around for a way to escape, but this time Dimitri won't let him.

'Felix.'

He groans immediately. 'What do you want now? I'm training.'

'Surely your training can wait a little while.' Dimitri puts a hand on his back, right between his shoulder blades.

Felix's body stiffens, but he seems willing to follow him at least. '...Whatever. Let's get this over with.'

They walk outside the training grounds. Dimitri's hand is heavy and warm on his back, and Felix wants to brush it away as much as he wants it to stroke him down to the small of his back. Those complicated feelings are back, as they always are with the boar, even after two years of isolation from him and pretty much anyone but Sylvain. It's frustrating, being a full grown adult with no grasp of how his own feelings for Dimitri work.

But he keeps quiet, and they keep walking for a while longer until they reach a specific, small room decorated for tea parties that Felix enters first. Dimitri closes the door behind him.

Felix sighs and lets himself fall on one of the sofas, letting his body sink into it as much as it can. He feels like he's about to be scolded like a small child. Utterly humiliating.

'What did you want?' He scowls, wanting to get out of this place as soon as possible. 'Being the king and a father, I didn't think you'd have time for idle chatter like this.'

'Felix, drop the act.' Dimitri sits close to him, way too close, on the same sofa where he is. 'I just want to understand.'

'Understand what.'

'How you've been doing these last years, for one.'

Felix scoffs. He's been dead. Yes, that's the best way to say it, but he hasn't been dead in the same way the boar had for those agonizingly long five years. It wasn't a "death" full of blood, screams and violence, but slow, draining. That endless, numbing void he still falls into never goes away, and sometimes Sylvain had been able to spark life into him, if only for some hours, repeating false words of affection into his ear, until he inevitably fell into the dark mud of his mind again.

'I've been fine,' he lies, avoiding Dimitri's stare, avoiding looking at him at all because the boar king is his weakness, and Felix hates those. He hates him. 'Is that all?'

'Sylvain told me something similar,' Dimitri continues, apparently paying no attention to Felix's question. 'That you were doing well. And I of course believed him. He's a childhood friend and a valuable ally, after all.' Felix wonders where he's going with this. If he and Sylvain are saying the same thing, where's the damn problem? 'But I felt… something was wrong.'

'Well, obviously, nothing was,' Felix says in another attempt at finishing this conversation. 'So will you let me go already?'

'I've learned to trust my gut after everything that happened, Felix.' He gets closer, much to Felix's horror. 'But raising a baby isn't easy. Even less when you're a king. It was my choice to not depend on a nurse, but I had my reasons. And you told me explicitly to not visit you.' Felix remembers that. He nods, and Dimitri sighs. 'So I trusted Sylvain, and… I find myself deeply disappointed.'

Felix opens his mouth to say something, but Dimitri's hand is suddenly on his cheek, and his blue eye is staring into Felix's, like he can see the cracks within, the pool of mud his consciousness has turned into.

He needs a drink, urgently. But something in the boar's worried stare won't let him move, like he's anchored to the sky blue.

'Are you alright, Felix?'

He isn’t. Despite his efforts, he’s always stumbling, drowning, choking on his own sadness. He has spent hours lying on his bed, unable to move, barely able to breathe, barely staying alive. Sleeping and drinking away all the days he could. Letting Sylvain hold him and then pushing him away immediately after because he couldn’t bear how fake his words of affection sounded. Telling Dimitri and his uncle to not come to see him, because he didn’t want to face them.

The thought that maybe his destiny had been to die in the war sometimes crossed his mind.

Felix breathes in and puts Dimitri’s warm hand away. He doesn’t need this. He doesn’t need his pity.

‘I’m telling you- I’m fine.’ His voice sounds choked despite his best effort to keep it steady. ‘Just let me go-’

‘You were shaking yesterday. When you gave Vad… Adrien, his birthday present.’

‘And your point is?!’ Felix replies, abrasive. ‘This stupid place is fucking cold. Who cares if I was shaking or not.’

He feels like a cornered small animal, about to be devoured by the big boar with a sky blue eye. He has to run, before the boar sees what’s inside, before everyone knows how weak he is.

‘I… wanted to believe it was out of emotion.’ Shut up, Felix thinks. Stop talking. ‘Because I too would be shaking with happiness if I saw Adrien for the first time in years. But then… During dinner...’

‘You’re overthinking. As you always do. Waste your energy on something else.’

Felix squirms.

‘You got drunk and broke your glass against the floor when the waitress denied you more. On my own request.’ “On your own child’s birthday” it seems Dimitri wants to say. ‘You were yelling as well… Felix.’

‘Bah.’

‘Adrien wasn’t there at the moment, but what if he had been?’

‘I’m not his fucking father.’

Dimitri frowns. ‘You are.’

‘He doesn’t know! He doesn’t remember! He doesn’t fucking care,’ Felix hisses, pushing Dimitri away from him as much as he could. Which isn’t much, with his own lack of energy and Dimitri’s size. ‘Do you want to know what happened? I drank, and fucked Sylvain. Several times.’

The surprise and slight hurt in Dimitri’s face gives him a rush of sadistic satisfaction. ‘My life isn’t your goddamn concern. Get over it already.’

He expects Dimitri to get angry, to ask about his thing with Sylvain, and the prospect of getting into a fight he can’t possibly win against the boar is pleasuring. Physical pain is still the biggest relief he can give his mind, offering it something else to focus on.

But he doesn’t expect Dimitri to hold his face in his hands, and he doesn’t expect him to look down at him with so much kindness and sadness in his gaze.

‘That is fine, Felix. I never… claimed your exclusivity. We’re not married, after all.’ Dimitri huffs and smiles faintly. One of his thumbs rubs at Felix’s skin. ‘But I still love you. I still worry about you, as both a friend and a lover and… the father of your child.’

No. He shouldn’t be looking at him like this. Felix wants him to get angry, to break his bones and make him bleed out on the floor. To leave him to die. Adrien wouldn’t care either way, nobody truly would.

But kindness is too much. It’s filling him and overflowing at the seams of his eyes, and he’s about to be torn apart by it.

‘Stop.’ And his voice sounds muted, weak. His hands grab Dimitri’s wrists, but he can’t push him away this time. He’s choking again, an immense knot in his throat not allowing him to breathe in and walk away before it’s too late and the cracks are too big.

‘Felix.’ Dimitri pushes him close, into the embrace of his arms, just like when they were children that cried over the most stupid things. Dimitri kisses his hair so very gently. ‘It’s fine.’

For a moment, that young Felix, that weak crybaby, leaks through the thick walls of grief and anger time has placed and bursts into tears. Dimitri hugs him gently against his chest, and the knot in Felix’s chest finally comes completely undone, allowing him to scream in pain until his lungs ran out of air.

Dimitri’s embrace keeps his broken pieces together still, not saying a single word as the body of the man he loves shakes violently under his touch. His screams are like an agony, and the boar king tries not to cry himself as he endures them.

He allowed this to happen. Felix bottled up all this pain because of his incompetence, Dimitri feels like. If he had been more convincing, if he had understood Felix better, then maybe…

But those are pointless thoughts right now.

Dimitri doesn't know how much time passes, maybe an hour, or it could also be three or more. But at some point, Felix's body seems to deflate, and his face is buried in Dimitri's shoulder.

'Felix?'

His eyes are slightly open, swollen, and red, as the rest of his face is. There's snot and drool as well, and Felix doesn't seem to care about the massive mess he looks like at the moment. Dimitri doesn't care either.

He leaves a kiss in his lover's sweaty and disheveled hair. 'Are you tired?'

Felix closes his eyes under the kiss and nods weakly.

'Do you want me to carry you?'

He nods again.

And Dimitri carries him. Felix's legs and arms feel like jelly, so getting to the door to open it is already a struggle. The boar king takes the easy but way more embarrassing solution of carrying him in his arms, slipping his hands under his knees and back and lifting him up.

Felix is so exhausted he just lets it happen without anything more than a groan, and leans against the boar's chest, in an attempt to hide his face from any person that could see them.

There's still a very small ounce of that old wolf pride in him, after all.

The walk through the castle corridors is almost nonexistent to Felix's consciousness. Beyond hearing some noises aside from Dimitri's voice, nothing else makes its way through his tired senses. Then, they arrive somewhere or he guesses so by the sound of someone opening a door.

The bed the boar leaves him on is familiar, even through the constant buzz going on in his head. It's like someone is punching nails into his skull endlessly, but he still recognizes the smell of this bed, and the fresh pillow under his head.

It's Dimitri's bed.

The place where he belongs, maybe.

The thought makes him squirm, and it startles Dimitri, who is soon enough hovering over him. 'Felix, are you alright?'

He makes a small sound in response.

'I'll bring you fresh water. Sleep, if you need to.'

Felix nods, or rather makes a weak attempt to do so. The important part is that Dimitri understands, anyway.

The boar leaves, and Felix buries his face in the pillow, trying to sleep away the headache.

The dreams that come to him this time are about his brother. Glenn is in the middle of an arena, alone, swinging his blade to the air, no one in sight to challenge him. Only two people watch this strange display, and one of them is Felix. The other one is Adrien, sitting on his lap with his own wooden sword in hand, trying to imitate Glenn's movements. There's a dim, unnatural light falling over them.

It's unsettling. Glenn's face is blurred, and Felix can't for the life of him remember how he looked, despite the family portraits around the Fraldarius house. Was his hair even that length, back when he died?

Even with the blurred face, Felix notices how young he is. Glenn used to be a giant in his eyes, but from the top of the seats around the arena he looks so small. So young. So long gone.

'Adrien.' The kid stops playing with his sword to look at him. 'Let's go.'

Adrien nods obediently, and hops off his lap, clinging to Felix's hand with his own when he stands up as well. They walk their way to the stairs, slower than Felix would've wished. This place feels too haunted, and he can't pinpoint why.

Then suddenly, Adrien lets go of his hand.

'Adrien?!'

He sees him walking the stairs down to the arena, where Glenn is still swinging his blade blindly. Felix's heart stops for a second, before he follows Adrien and yells his name again. 'Adrien! Adrien, don't go there!'

He tries to run after him, but the stairs seem to stretch endlessly between them. Either that or he isn't moving despite his best efforts. He pulls at his own body, begging it to move, to run, before Adrien sets foot on the sand.

'Adrien!!'

The kid doesn't respond. Glenn doesn't react to his presence. Felix starts hearing Dimitri's voice calling him, but it's a small, distant sound compared to his own voice.

Adrien arrives at the arena, and Glenn's blade crosses his body in a clean strike.

Felix wakes up screaming.

A strong hand is on his shoulder. 'Felix.'

That voice again. Sky blue eye. Blond hair.

'I brought you water,' he says, gesturing to the glass on the nightstand.

'...Mmh.' Felix sits up, and Dimitri offers him the glass of water, which he drinks up almost immediately. He probably needed it after all that crying. Maybe the nightmare came from there too.

'A bad dream?'

'A horrible one.'

Dimitri sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. 'I'm sorry. I tried to wake you up, but…'

'Mmh.' Felix grunts, leaving the glass on its previous place before lying back down. His whole body still hurts, including that stupid headache, and the nightmare - and probably something else - are making him shaky and weak. 'I guess I can't count on you to bring me a glass of wine.'

Dimitri shakes his head. Felix sighs. Whatever, he'll survive.

The conversation is finished, and yet Dimitri stays there, sitting by his side. Felix knows the face he's making, those silent puppy eyes of a person too cowardly to ask for things actively.

He'll probably leave if Felix ignores him long enough, but - just for the sake of the boar letting him rest, nothing more - he stands on his elbows.

Like a puppy just given a treat, Dimitri smiles and bends down, leaving a light kiss on Felix's lips.

They both sigh from the depths of their lungs.

'Sleep well, my dear.'

* * *

Dimitri walks out of the room with a cheerful grin he just can't erase from his face, no matter his attempts. He could still feel the touch of Felix's lips lingering on his own like a beautiful ghost, and his chest feels full and content.

It's been so, so long since he kissed him. So long since he kissed anyone in particular, because Felix is the only person he wants to kiss anyway. 

He hasn't forgotten about Felix's earlier breakdown, however, and it still sends a shiver down his spine. For how long has Felix been keeping it all inside? Was all that from the years they've been separated, of does it come from much further back? 

In any case, there is someone he has to talk to.

He searches around the palace, although the person he’s looking for probably is in the citadel, drinking in the first tavern with a pretty waitress he could find. Ironically, he finds him at the stables, preparing his horse to probably do just what Dimitri was expecting him to.

Ingrid is also here, and she notices him first. ‘Your Majesty!’

Sylvain gapes at him, before smiling and bowing at the same time as Ingrid. ‘Hey, Your Majesty!’

‘Good evening, Ingrid, Sylvain. I was searching for you,’ he says, looking directly at the latter, who blinks in surprise. Ingrid, of course, frowns.

‘What foolery did you do now, Sylvain?’

‘Hey! I didn’t to anything. Right?’ He turns to Dimitri, who tries to put up his best smile, despite Ingrid’s scrutiny. 

‘Don’t worry too much, Ingrid,’ The king shakes his head, that tense smile still on his face. ‘I just wish to scold him on some… inaccurate reports, so to speak. They have nothing to do with his skirtchasing tendencies, I assure you.’

Or maybe they did. Felix did confirm they had been lovers as well all this time, but that just made everything worse, if both things are connected.

‘So you’ve been slacking off.’ She crosses her arms over her chest, looking at Sylvain again.

‘I don’t… know what His Majesty is talking about, Ingrid.’ And he looks genuinely confused as he says it, though he has always been good at acting.

‘In any case,’ Dimitri interrupts, putting a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. He can feel the man shiver slightly under the touch, so maybe he knows what he’s talking about after all? ‘I’d like to have a private conversation with him about this. If you don’t mind me stealing him from you for a while.’

‘Of course not.’ Ingrid laughs. ‘Scold him all you want, Your Majesty.’

‘Hey, don’t talk as if I’m a dog or a kid!’ Sylvain whines, as he reluctantly follows the king of Faerghus outside of the stables. Dimitri isn’t looking, but Ingrid is probably mocking him in some way as they walk out.

‘Oh, by the way, have you seen Felix?’ Sylvain asks as he walks behind him. A couple servants pass by, and so do some others, and Dimitri doesn’t answer his question. ‘Your Majesty? Dimitri?’

‘Ah. Sorry, I was thinking… He wasn’t feeling alright.’ Sylvain notices a strange tension on Dimitri’s voice. ‘Something of a terrible headache and dehydration.’

‘Awh, man.’ Sylvain laments, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘That explains why he wasn’t at the training grounds earlier. He probably spent too much time focused on his training and forgot everything else, didn’t he? I was hoping to go for some drinks with him at the citadel…’

‘Some drinks?’

‘Exactly.’

‘I’d discourage that.’ Dimitri says casually, as they arrive at the same small, relatively isolated room where he had been earlier with Felix. ‘Please, come in.’

Sylvain stands frozen for a couple seconds, before shifting his weight uncomfortably. ‘For some reason I feel like I’m being dragged to a slaughterhouse.’

Dimitri laughs. ‘Please, Sylvain. It’s just a conversation I’d rather have nobody else hear.’

‘Still, you sound like a guy that just found out I was banging his wife.’

And now, now Dimitri’s huff is genuine, and it makes Sylvain feel strange. And a little scared, because he’s been doing _just that,_ technically, and usually Dimitri would’ve been more… scandalized about that joke.

‘Now that I think about it,’ he says, as he takes a step back. ‘Maybe I did have something to…’

But Dimitri grabs his wrist, so hard that it hurts him, and when he looks at his childhood friend again the friendly grin and the huffs are gone. He’s frowning, lips pursed, and he’s kind of scary.

So he found out, huh?

‘It’ll be a minute, Sylvain.’ His voice, however, stays somewhat calm. ‘Please.’

Sylvain swallows thick, and reluctantly enters the room, gasping when the door slams shut behind him. He barely has seconds to react to Dimitri’s quick and loud steps, turning back just in time for the king to grab him by the neck of his shirt and stamp him against a wall with his monstrous strength.

Sylvain coughs. ‘What the f…’

‘Give me one reason,’ Dimitri says, in a badly tempered voice. ‘To not break your nose this very moment.’

‘W-Well. Felix likes it quite a lot… Your Majesty.’

Dimitri’s mouth twitches downwards and there’s something in his gaze that reminds him of the wild boar they found with the professor, five years after the fall of Garrech Mach.

‘You lied to me. To your king. To your _friend_.’ Sylvain scoffs, and looks away from Dimitri’s angry eyes. Even if the only thing that does is anger the beast even more. ‘I trusted you. I told you to tell me if Felix was alright, and you lied to me.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘If you lie to me again, I hope the Goddess herself keeps me from ripping your tongue from your mouth.’ He growls. ‘Felix told me many things today.’

‘Geesh, that guy.’ Sylvain wonders for how long he can keep up the casual tone, before Dimitri absolutely snaps at him. ‘And I thought he was too embarrassed about it to tell.’

‘Why did you lie to me? Why didn’t you tell me he was suffering to that extent?!’

‘I didn’t. He was alive and decent enough, so…’ Sylvain shrugs. ‘I was obeying orders anyway, right?’

‘I didn’t request that as a king, Sylvain.’ Disappointment weighs heavier on his voice than anger, for once. ‘But as your childhood friend, and as a person that also loves Felix. Or at least I thought you did.’

Sylvain grits his teeth. 

Does he love Felix? He thinks he does. He’d protect him with his life if needed. He’d do things for him he wouldn’t do for anyone else. He was the only person he could picture himself sharing the last years of his life with, beyond that promise they made as kids. He had told Felix he loved him, more times than he could count over the past two and some years. And Felix…

He hadn’t believed him, not a single time, not even a little. He knew why, and he knew why Dimitri’s confessions didn’t sound fake and empty to Felix’s ears. There were reasons, and most of them were his own fault, and yet he was so damn angry.

He was so angry that Dimitri got to keep Felix. That he was being scolded for trying to keep Felix with him, despite being aware of being an enabler in his self-destruction. 

“I do. I love him,” he wants to say.

‘I’m his friend,’ he says instead. ‘Not his goddamn nanny. And what if I had told you he was drowning in his own shit? Would you have appeared like a white knight at Fraldarius to rescue him from himself? Like in a knightly novel? Come on, Dima. I know you’re better than that.’

He kind of deserves the punch that hits his face, and he’s grateful to at least have a wall behind him to lean on. But his nose is bleeding, and it hurts like hell. Sylvain breathes through his mouth, in short gasps, seeing the stars between him and Dimitri.

His mouth tastes like iron, an all too familiar taste.

Dimitri’s hand is on his shoulder again, and he hears the king huff, like he’s too tired to continue this pathetic fight. ‘...You’re dismissed of the duties I gave you,’ he says, pulling him up. ‘Let’s go get that nose healed.’

Sylvain breathes in. ‘...Your Majesty?’

‘I haven’t forgiven you,’ Dimitri’s voice sounds bitter, and his only eye glistens with tired anger still. ‘Keep that in mind.’

* * *

Felix looks at his own reflection in the mirror as he buttons up his jacket, and pulls his hair up into the usual ponytail. It shouldn't be too cold, being the start of spring, so a cape isn't all that necessary, but he grabs one just in case. 

A servant came earlier to take his belongings to the carriage, so those should be in place too. 

'Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer?'

Felix's mouth twitches downwards. What kind of question is that? 'I am sure. I only came here for his birthday, anyway.'

'I know, but…' Dimitri is surely making those puppy eyes again, and Felix refuses to look at him. 'If it's because of the rumors…'

'What?' Felix growls. 'Are you going to tell me that if I married you they'd go away?'

Maybe they would, but they would also confirm them that way, and Felix stubbornness and pride are too big for that. 

'No,' Dimitri shakes his head. 'I was going to apologize. For breathing more fire into said rumors.'

Indeed, carrying someone bridal style to your room and letting them sleep there - with you, with all that carried with it - wasn't a good idea when you're trying to avoid rumours that the prince's unknown parent is that someone.

Felix kind of wants to punch Dimitri. But he also wants to punch himself for falling for it again. 

The touch of the boar's hand on his back still burns on his skin, even if they didn't go too far due to his previous exhaustion.

Felix shakes his head, before his cheeks are of a way too intense blush for his liking. 'In any case, I'll come back. Eventually.'

He doesn't need to look at Dimitri's face to know he's smiling like an idiot. 'Oh? I'm glad to hear that.'

'It's not for _you_,' Felix says. 'It's for him. You don't have anyone capable enough to teach him swordplay, so I'll have to revise his technique from time to time.'

It's an excuse and the boar is aware of it, but he doesn't question it much, deciding to agree with him instead. 'I think that would be adequate, yes. Although, it would be more effective if you… stayed here.' Felix frowns. 'It's just a suggestion. I'm happy with just you visiting from time to time. I bet Adrien is happy about it as well.'

Adrien… Will he even remember his existence when he comes back, whenever that will be? 'Mmh. Good.'

Dimitri gets closer, and Felix sees him coming from the reflection in the mirror. His arms surround him, because apparently the boar can't spend ten minutes around him without the need to touch him in some way. Felix looks away from the mirror.

'Try to not drink too much, alright?' Or not at all, is what he's trying to say. His voice sounds so unbearably sweet and worried it makes Felix grimace. 

And he makes no promises. 

Felix squirms, and Dimitri lets go of him. 'You're being quite nice to someone who cheated on you, boar.'

Dimitri sighs. 'As I said, we aren't married, or anything similar. It would be distasteful of me to just…'

'But you're jealous.'

'...A little,' Dimitri admits. 'I wish I had been able to be there for you these last years. But that's all there is to my jealousy.'

Liar, Felix wants to say. He's surrounded by liars.

Dimitri accompanies him to his carriage, even if Felix doesn't consider it necessary in the slightest, and they're checking everything is ready when he notices a small presence very badly hidden behind a pillar. 

He walks to it, and the presence curls up behind it even further, as if trying to not be discovered. 

'Piglet prince.' Felix calls him, voice stern. 'Do not try to hide from me.'

'S-Sorry,’ he says, and Felix notices he's holding the sword with the broken hilt he had gifted him.

'What do you want, kid?' His voice softens up, as he squats down to look at him eye to eye. 'I have to go back home soon.'

Adrien pouts, apparently disliking the idea that he's going to disappear. '...Alright.'

Felix sighs, and ruffles his already messy blonde hair. 'I'll be back before you even know it.'

'Promise?'

'I promise.' Although he doesn't see the point in promising such a thing to a child. 'Now, don't cry. This is nothing to be sad about, piglet.'

Adrien nods, and as instructed, doesn't cry. Dimitri picks him up, kissing his hair, and looks at Felix with sheer tenderness in his eyes. 

'Now, say goodbye to uncle Felix, will you.'

Adrien blinks a couple times, before muttering. 'Bye bye…'

Suddenly, Felix doesn't want to go back home. But he turns his back to them nonetheless. 'Bye, piglet. Boar.' 

He enters the carriage and doesn't spare a single look at them, knowing himself better than that. If he does it, if he sees Adrien's tiny hand waving goodbye at him, he won't be able to leave.

_Would that be so bad_, a small voice whispers inside of him.

As he sits in the carriage, all alone, some minutes pass before a realization hits him.

He hasn't seen Sylvain at all since yesterday morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other ocs in this fic will start appearing from the next chapter onwards. ;) Also I'll be starting college again fairly soon so I might slow down publishing. Hope y'all understand.


	4. But just because it burns it doesn't mean you're gonna die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to write down in the tags that some claurenz and BIG golden deer spoilers show up in this fic on the chapter right next to this one. So please be aware of that and, if you haven't finished that route, come back after doing so! The fic won't go anywhere. <3

Maybe coming to this place wasn’t such a good idea. His hands are shaking, and a voice in the back of his mind speaks to him. “Just pick one,” but he shouldn’t. “Just one last time.” That’s the last thing he should do, because he knows how these things work, and if he doesn’t want to drag down a whole month of efforts and, being honest with himself, torture, he must keep his hands to himself.

Thankfully, her touch lands on his shoulder before he can give in to any of those thoughts.

‘So this is the place. Are you sure you want to entrust the key to me?’

Felix turns around just enough to see Ingrid’s worried face. ‘You’re the only one responsible enough that I know. The boar is way too busy with his brat and his kingly duties -’ And it’s not like he wants to give Dimitri the pleasure of being the holder of this specific key. ‘- and Sylvain is… Sylvain. I can’t trust him.’

‘Why not just dispose of all of them?’

‘It’d be a waste of wine, I guess.’ Some of those bottles had been in this cellar ever since his father was a child. And it’s not just that. ‘So, either you keep the key, or these are all yours.’

‘Well, I can’t feed my people on alcohol.’ Unless you want them to be like me, Felix thinks. ‘So I wouldn't be sending all of them to Galatea. I’ll take some, but… I’ll keep the key.’

‘Then it’s settled.’ Felix sighs, turning back to the stairs he shouldn’t have walked down. ‘Let’s get out of there.’

His voice cracks a little, and he can feel Ingrid’s stare burning in the back of his neck.

‘Are you alright?’

She asks as if she doesn’t know how this last month of his life went. Constant nausea, getting hurt for breaking things, wanting to cry but not being able to. He has already failed time and time again to resist the urge to fill his stomach with wine or anything else he could grab, something that would give him the short but sweet release of being drunk.

And then the void came back, stronger, longer, with a strong taste of regret. And Felix has enough regrets for a whole life.

Ingrid had agreed to this, probably because she had seen it herself. She saw him during the celebration of Adrien’s third birthday, throwing that glass to the floor and yelling like a madman. Threatening the servant that had denied him more wine, even if that person was just following orders. And then she had seen him at home, at his very worst, his sheets, face and hair covered in vomit, the man whimpering like a hurt animal, unable to move on his own. Unable to cry even just a little.

He remembered Ingrid’s hands lifting him up and her voice softly admonishing him, but only vaguely.

‘Here. All yours.’ Felix turns to her and leaves the key on her hand, and she keeps it in one of her pockets. ‘I don’t want to set foot in that place anymore.’

‘Understandable.’ She’s probably remembering the same thing as him. ‘You know, prince Vadim…’

‘Adrien,’ Felix interrupts her. ‘Prince Adrien. Call him that.’

She purses her lips, but doesn’t seem as surprised as Felix would expect. ‘Why?’

‘I prefer that name. Vadim is…’ he sighs, arms crossed over his chest. ‘I don’t like it. That’s all.’

Ingrid’s eyes stare at the back of his neck again, making Felix uncomfortable. She probably suspects something, and not only because of the rumors circling around the whole kingdom and especially in Fhirdiad. Rumors that are true, for once.

‘You know, Felix-’

‘We were supposed to drink tea, now.’ He starts walking away, and she follows him, always slightly behind him. ‘So let’s do that.’

‘Alright.’

But there’s something in the air, a strange tension that makes Felix want to flee his own home, far away from those rumors, from Ingrid’s silent accusations, and from his own bad decisions. Neither say a word, not even as the tea is prepared or when Ingrid notices some of her favorite pastries on the table. Felix thinks that of course he knows her favorites, since she wouldn’t stop talking about food all day, but the conversation never surfaces.

Both have a lot on their minds, and those lines of thought are dangerously close to cross.

‘You still haven’t explained why,’ Ingrid says, after a sip of Almyran tea, ‘you disappeared for so long, three years ago.’

‘Because I wanted to,’ Felix replies harshly, looking at his own cup of tea like it has all the answers to how to deal with his conversation. Or how to end it.

‘I know you’re bad with people but… I know you, Felix.’

‘Oh, do you?’

She frowns. ‘More than some maid in the palace, yes. And I also know Dimitri better than to think he got a random maiden pregnant.’

Felix groans. That is one of his least favorite rumors about where Adrien came from. Because if that was what happened, Dimitri would undoubtedly had made that maiden his queen out of responsibility.

‘I agree that’s a pretty stupid theory. And?’

‘His Majesty disappeared for a while as well, and suddenly, he had a baby. And he is of royal blood, since he has the major crest of Blaiddyd, no less…’ Felix raises an eyebrow. ‘Didn’t you know? Apparently prince Vad… Adrien’s crest is a major one. Just like yours, Felix.’

‘Bah.’ He finally takes a sip of his tea, in hopes it will give him time to think of an excuse. ‘It isn’t that important if it’s minor or major. He has a claim to the throne anyway.’

‘I guess. But some crest scholars are fascinated by it. A major Blaiddyd bearer hasn’t been born in generations, and some theorize it’s because it might be mixed with another crest bearer’s blood.’

‘Those are just theories, anyway. And those scholars shouldn’t be bothering a child with their stupid experiments.’ Felix bites one of the pastries angrily. He doesn’t even like this one that much. ‘Where are you trying to get with this, Ingrid? You know damn well these conversations bore me.’

‘I just… think about it sometimes. Because His Majesty disappeared without any knights except Sylvain, leaving even Dedue behind… Dedue must have known it was a safe place for Dimitri to go without his assistance.’

Felix’s hands are shaking again, and he takes another long sip. It doesn’t burn, and it doesn’t take his mind away from the conversation, so he’s forced to reply. ‘Or maybe he’s just that obedient.’

‘But if he was going to somewhere safe… I’d think he’s going to visit a close friend. I know for certain he didn’t visit me, and Sylvain was with him. So, only you remain.’

‘He didn’t come here.’

‘You vanished two months after His Majesty’s coronation, for reasons nobody seems to know…’

Anxiety is curling up in his chest, and he leaves the cup on the table with a quick and harsh movement. ‘Ingrid.’

That silences her for a short while, but she continues, much to Felix’s desperation. ‘His Highness’s eyes have always reminded me of you, Felix.’

Felix swallows thick, grabbing the cup of tea so tightly he might just break it. ‘There are plenty of brown-eyed people in the world.’

‘You’ve always been in love with Dimitri, haven’t you?’

That sentence is like a punch that instantly takes away the air from Felix’s lungs, making him gasp and look away from her. He has to run, but he stays in place, a flood of memories of Dimitri in all his forms and all the times he had taken pieces of his heart away, until it was wholly his. Dimitri’s smile, Dimitri’s voice, Dimitri’s eyes, Dimitri’s hands, Dimitri’s dreams, Mitya-

Ingrid doesn’t need an answer to that question. She knows, she’s always known, so why is she torturing him like this?

‘That’s why I thought… It wouldn’t be such a farfetched idea,’ she continues. ‘In fact… The only person that could be prince Adrien’s father is you, Felix.’

This time, she waits, observing Felix’s face carefully, examining the effects of the words she just dropped over him like a thunder spell. Their tea goes colder and colder by the second, while Felix tries to gather himself, at least enough to not crack under her eyes.

He takes some hair in, and looks everywhere but at her.

‘Congratulations,’ he mutters, voice low, tired and dry, and gets up, pushing the table violently as he does. Some pastries fall to the floor. ‘For worrying too much about fucking useless knowledge. Are you content now? What were you trying to do with this?’ he hisses. ‘Are you feeling proud of yourself for figuring it out? I hope you are.’

‘Felix, there’s no need to lash out at me.’ Her voice is severe, like a mother scolding a child, and that only feeds Felix’s anger.

‘I don’t care,’ he growls. ‘I’m getting out of here. Finish your damn tea alone and delight in your fucking discovery.’

‘Felix!’ He hears her getting up and walking behind him, following him into the house. She manages to grab his wrist. ‘Why aren’t you by Dimitri’s side?!’

The question burns.

‘Let go of me, Ingrid.’

‘Please, answer me. Prince Va… Adrien is your child, is he not? So why… why would you do this?’

‘As if you could possibly understand.’ Felix finally turns to her. ‘With your stupid ideas of duty.’

‘It’s not even about duty, Felix!’ she raises her voice. ‘I’ve seen you around prince Adrien. You adore him, don’t you?’

That is hard to deny, even for Felix, who is an expert on denying everything to himself and others. ‘Does it matter?’

‘It does, Felix.’ She lets go of his wrist, but her words keep him anchored to this hallway. ‘One day, he’s going to miss you and wonder who and where you are, and why you aren’t there.’

‘He’s the prince. He can’t possibly miss anything in this life.’ He remembers a younger Dimitri, yearning for his stepmother’s affection despite everything, and he knows he’s wrong. ‘He doesn’t know who I am, or if I’m alive. It’s better for everyone if the boar just tells him his other parent died when he was a baby, and then it won’t matter.’

This way, he doesn’t have to admit his feelings for the boar. He doesn’t have to tie himself to him. He doesn’t have to life in fear of screwing up the mind of a child that isn’t guilty of his own failures as a person.

It’s better this way.

Ingrid gives him a look full of the emotion Felix hates the most. She pities him. And she’s angry at him.

‘Felix, are you listening to yourself?’

‘I am. And I know what I’m saying and why.’

‘Then explain it to me.’

‘I don’t have to explain anything to you.’ If she’s hurt by those words, she doesn’t show it. ‘Stop acting as if you were my mother. I’ve had enough patronizing from all of you for a whole life.’

‘Patronizing?’ She blinks, confused. ‘I was not...’

‘You think I’m stupid, that I’m infantile and that’s why I’m doing this. All of you think this and feel the obligation to tell me about how wrong I am that I’m not fulfilling your expectations of what I’m supposed to do.’ Felix breathes in. ‘I’m tired of that.’

‘I’m your friend, Felix. And I think you’re making a big mistake.’

Just by the sound of her voice, Felix knows those words will haunt him for Goddess knows how long.

* * *

A child’s steps get muffled by the carpet, as he walks slowly towards the castle kitchens. Nobody is supposed to see him, and that’s why he carries dad’s heavy cape with him: it will surely make him invisible to the eyes of anyone else.

A maid and a knight pass by, and he stays still, completely covered by the cape. He hears them laugh, and then they’re walking away, and Vadim smiles victoriously.

He can already smell that delicious food from where he is, and keeping quiet and still is so hard when that smell is in the air.

Finally, the knight and the maid’s presences are gone, and he can rush to the kitchen that lies at the end of the corridor. He peeks inside, and sees Dedue’s big back as he cooks. He walks in but ends up running to him. ‘Dedue!!’

That startles the man slightly, and he sighs in relief when he sees it’s just him. ‘Your Highness, you scared me.’

‘Sorry.’ The prince sits on a stool next to him, still holding the cape he’s been dragging all this time. ‘Is that…!’

‘My speciality, yes,’ Dedue smiles. ‘You requested it for tomorrow, didn’t you?’

‘Yes!!’ His legs bounce in excitement. ‘Thank you, Dedue!’

‘However, you shouldn’t be here so late into the night, Your Highness,’ Dedue scolds, and Vadim looks away, trying to make an innocent face. ‘Being here won’t cook the stew faster.’

‘But…’ He pouts, and Dedue knows what’s coming. ‘I want to taste iiiit… Please?’

‘No eating until tomorrow.’

‘Just a little?’

Dedue shakes his head, and Vadim’s cheeks puff up. It’s hard to resist the pouts of such an adorable child, but Dedue manages, and Vadim gives up. For now.

‘Dedue!’ After some silence, Vadim calls for his attention again. ‘Look at this!’

The kid shows off Dimitri’s old cape, and Dedue blinks. ‘His Majesty’s old cape?’

‘It’s an invisibility cape!’ Vadim assures, and he covers his head with it, looking like a small fluffy ball of blue, black and white. ‘See!’

‘Well, I indeed cannot see,’ Dedue says, looking around. ‘Where could His Highness have gone to…?

Vadim jumps off the stool, and slowly walks to the other side of Dedue’s feet. Then, he takes off the cape. ‘Here!’

Dedue pretends to be startled, his smile widening. ‘Goddess. Do not scare me like that, I beg of you.’

The child laughs, going back to sitting on the stool, curling up in the warm cape. Dedue’s eyes go back to the stew, but the prince can’t stay still for too long so he starts walking around the kitchen, dragging the old cape behind him. Dedue watches over him silently, just in case he gets hurt or breaks something, like Vadim usually does. But he just grabs a wooden spoon from the wall, and mimics a sword fight with it and the cape, whispering dialogue he has memorized from the fairytales Dimitri tells him.

Dedue closes the pot where he’s making the stew, and sits down for a small break. Then, a thought seems to cross Vadim’s mind, because he stops imagining sword fights and rushes to him with the hurry of someone whose life depends on the question he has in mind.

‘Dedue!’ He helps the prince climb to his lap, awaiting what he has to say. ‘Your parents’ brothers are your uncles, right?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Dad is always saying you’re like this brother. Does that mean you are my uncle? Should I call you uncle Dedue?’

By the tone in his voice and the curiosity in his eyes, Dedue notices this is a question he’s been asking himself for a while now. ‘We’re not family by blood, so no, there is no need for you to call me that. In fact, I’d discourage it.’ There’s that pout again, those slightly puffed up cheeks. ‘But that does remind me of something.’

‘Of what?!’

‘When I was a child-’

‘YOU WERE A KID?!’

Dedue barely keeps himself from laughing. ‘Please do not speak so loudly, Your Highness. Most people are resting at this hour.’ Vadim covers his mouth with both hands and nods. ‘And yes, all people have been kids. Including your father.’

‘...Father? Are you sure he was a kid?’ Vadim whispers, as if he’s sharing the biggest secret of the estate. ‘He’s super big.’

‘There was a time when both me and your father, and everyone else, was a child. Like you.’ Vadim’s brown eyes are opened wide, and his legs are bouncing in excitement again. ‘But, as I was saying, when I was a child, I used to call all my parents’ close friends “uncle” and “aunt”, despite there being no blood ties between us.’

‘In Duscur?’

‘Yes.’ Dedue nods, and leaves the prince on the floor. ‘You must be tired, Your Highness. I’ll escort you to your chambers.’

‘Alright… But I’m not tired.’ Vadim whispers the last sentence, slightly disappointed. ‘I want the stew…’

‘Tomorrow.’ Dedue smiles, leaving a hand on the kid’s hair.

‘But tomorrow you won’t be here…’

‘But the stew will.’

‘That’s not fun.’

Dedue takes off his apron, and they walk out of the kitchen together, Vadim’s hand clinging to Dedue’s shirt. Everyone in the court has noticed how quickly the prince is growing, even compared to children his age, towering over every other kid he stands close to. That’s yet another similarity he apparently will have with Dimitri.

With his free hand, Vadim is dragging the old cape, and looking from Dedue’s perspective, with Vadim’s long blonde hair, he looks like a very tiny Dimitri, who walks in big jumps to keep up with Dedue’s pace.

‘Do you wish me to walk slower, Your Highness?’

‘No!!’ The child gasps, sounding a little tired. Well, it’s good if he tires himself out a little more before going to bed. ‘M-Maybe...’

And as prideful as lord Fraldarius, Dedue thinks.

They arrive at the door of Vadim’s bedroom, and Dedue kneels to allow the prince to give him a tight good night hug. He also feels a “have a safe trip” in the way Vadim refuses to let go of him for a while.

‘Have sweet dreams, Your Highness.’

‘Good night!’ Vadim walks inside, but peeks outside just as he’s about to close the door. ‘Uncle Dedue.’

The child grins, just as Dedue blinks in surprise and smiles back.

* * *

There’s a new person in the orphanage, and he’s not like the other adults that often come here. Mama Mercie and papa Ashe have invited him inside to their actual house, and have presented Yvette to him. Papa Ashe’s face still shines with a smile from ear to ear, and the stranger bows to salute Yvette. 

He’s big, the biggest human Adel has ever seen. His face is covered in small scars, and it reminds her of herself in a way. He looks very strong, strong enough to lift a whole horse, maybe, and he doesn’t smile until Yvette salutes him back.

Well, that’s no wonder. Yvette is really cute, Adel thinks, smiling herself.

The stranger’s eyes wander the room, until they notice her, and said eyes are green like hers, although of a deeper color. Ashe notices the stare and finally realizes she’s been there this whole time.

‘Oh, Dedue, that is one of the children of the orphanage.’ Dedue is his name. Adel hasn’t heard it ever before. ‘She’s a little shy… Adel.’ He makes a gesture with his hand, and she hides a little more behind the frame of the door. ‘Please come here. This is an old friend of mine and Mercie’s.’

‘It’s alright if she doesn’t wish to come near.’ His voice is very deep, but also very soft. It doesn’t feel threatening. ‘I understand I can seem intimidating.’

That makes her frown and jump outside of her hiding place. ‘Y-You’re not! I’m not scared!’ 

The man is surprised, and so are Ashe and Yvette, which is extremely satisfying. As if she’d be scared of a guy just because he’s big and strong and a grown up!  _ Ridiculous _ , as papa Ashe said. 

Ridiculous - it sounded like such a cool word.

‘Well,’ the man says, smiling again. Is he laughing at her? ‘I’m glad I did not scare you, then.’

Then he notices  _ it _ , because his face shifts expression for a single second before going back to normal, and it’s a reaction Adel knows all too well. 

‘You could never scare me, big man!’

But he doesn’t seem taken aback by her aggressive demeanor. ‘Your name was Adel, was it not?’

‘Yes!’ she says, trying to look as furious and big as possible.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

He bows, just as he did for Yvette, and the embarrassment is so big that Adel storms off the room. 

The man - Dedue? His name was Dedue - stays for what feels like a good time. He has taken off his heavy armor, and he still looks big and strong, but it’s different. He helps the other kids with the orphanage’s garden, lets them climb to his shoulders, carries kids that have hurt themselves, drinks tea with mama Mercie, and makes trips to the town with papa Ashe. 

He also cooks, and his cooking smells like things papa Ashe may have cooked some time ago. The foods Dedue cooks taste good enough to make almost everyone want seconds, but Adel doesn’t ask for them, despite the heavenly feeling on her tongue when she tastes the food.

She also notices Dedue sometimes looks at her, and it makes her angry. As if her face scaring off the newer kids isn’t enough of a reminder that she’s ugly.

She overheards that man asking papa Ashe about her.

‘Yes, she is a war orphan. We don’t know the story behind the burn on her face, and I doubt she even remembers…’

‘I see. I’m sorry to hear that, but maybe it’s better that way.’

‘Maybe…’ papa Ashe sighs. ‘That’d be… Adel?’

She gasps, as his eyes find her sneaking in on them, and the man looks back at her. 

‘I-I wasn’t spying!!’ she yells, retreating, and runs off again before any of the adults can admonish her.

Her rushed steps take her to the garden, and she finds a small corner to hide in until the day turns dark.

However, the man shows up, his towering silhouette covering the sun. Adel curls up, scared, until he sits down some distance away from her and she looks at his expression properly. He seems relieved.

‘W-What do you want?!’ she groans, looking back at the ground.

‘I wanted to check if you were alright. Ashe was also worried.’

‘I’m fine.’ She pouts, fidgeting with her orange hair and thinking he’ll go away now. But he doesn’t.

‘Would you mind if we talk a little?’

She blinks and makes an attempt to look up at him. ‘...I don’t mind.’

There’s a moment of silence between them, as Dedue seems to be thinking about how to express what is on his mind. Adel doesn’t mind the silence.

‘Do you think,’ he finally says, in a soft breath, ‘my face is scary?’

The question surprises her. ‘Uhm. A- A little. At first, I guess. But you’re not that scary.’

He smiles. ‘Thank you. I try not to be.’ He breathes in. ‘I also used to worry about scaring people off. For different reasons, but I did. Being honest with you… Still do. I know how it is… to not want people to see you because when they do…’

‘They’re mean about it.’

‘Yes.’ Dedue pauses for a moment. ‘But Yvette thinks you’re cute, doesn’t she?’

‘She doesn’t count,’ Adel says immediately.

Dedue continues. ‘Ashe and Mercedes, as well.’

‘They don’t count!’ She shifts her pose, and crosses her arms over her chest.

‘Why?’ 

‘Because… Because…’ She looks anywhere but Dedue, trying to find the answer. A small tear comes out of her right eye, and she wipes it away quickly. ‘I-I don’t know.’

He patiently waits, until she’s ready to talk again.

‘I-I don’t know. But I feel really sad when the new kids run away from me because they noticed my face. Th-They won’t let me help them and they call me ugly things. Yvette and papa and mama are nice to me but- but maybe it’s because they have to be nice. M-Maybe they also think I’m ugly and look like… like…’

‘I’m sorry, Adel. You shouldn’t be treated like this.’

She sniffs, wiping more tears away. ‘I-It’s not fair! I’m not a bad kid! I didn’t do anything!’

‘You didn’t.’ He sits closer to her, and hesitates before ruffling her hair carefully. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’

Her sobs get louder, more violent, and Dedue stays by her side as she lets all that pain out of her system. When she runs out of tears, he offers to accompany her inside,and she accepts in a low voice.

From that day, Adel is like his shadow. A shy, very small shadow that doesn’t say much, especially with people around. Dedue is not used to be the one starting conversations with anyone besides Dimitri unless it’s completely necessary, but he does with Adel. 

‘You’re the king’s knight?!’ she exclaims. 

‘I’m considered his right-hand man, yes.’ He says, as he takes a break sitting on a bench.

‘What does the king look like?!’

‘Mmm. He has long blonde hair, he’s tall, almost as much as me… Some people think he's intimidating, but he has a good heart.’

'Mama Mercie always says king Dimitri is a good man…' she comments. 

'He is. The kind of man I'd pledge my whole life to.' Dedue sighs, a small smile appearing on his face. 'Part of why people think he's intimidating is because he wears an eyepatch.'

That seems to catch Adel's attention the most out of this conversation. 'An eyepatch?' 

Dedue hums. He learned a couple days ago that Adel's left eye is barely functional, so maybe she's considering something. 'Would you want to use one as well?'

'N-No… I'd still scare people off…' But there's some excitement in her voice. 'Though maybe a bit less.'

Even if it wouldn't cover the whole scar of her face, maybe it could help, he thinks, but he doesn't voice his thoughts. 

Time passes by faster than Adel would wish, and before she knows it, Dedue has started to pack his things to travel back to Fhirdiad. While all the kids lament the loss of such a nice playtime partner, Adel’s sadness runs slightly deeper.

‘Mama Mercie and papa Ashe are the only ones that would like me,’ she explains, one day before the morning Dedue parts. ‘The other people that come here to adopt usually ignore me…’

That is why she’s one of the oldest children in the orphanage, but Dedue probably guessed that.

‘I see.’

‘But I… I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be here.’

Dedue stays silent, patting her head softly as he usually does. She leans on him, pouting. ‘I dunno why… But I wish you were my dad.’

She hears a small gasp, and Dedue’s strokes on her head stop for a second. ‘Mmmh. Are you sure?’

‘Uh-huh. You’re nice. And you get me.’

There’s another moment of silence between them.

‘If you like me so much,’ Dedue whispers, ‘I ought to come back.’ 

* * *

**Months later**

The tavern Sylvain takes him to is familiar, close to the castle that reigns over the citadel. It’s where all the knights go to drink and pass the time, and that’s what they find there: a group of vaguely familiar faces, people they’ve crossed paths with in the hallways and little else.

There’s something suspicious about the way Sylvain has invited him to join him, but Felix doesn’t dwell on it too much. He’s tired, he’s been training with Adrien all day, and the kid is making some progress. But “uncle Felix” as he calls him now for whatever reason is tired and wouldn’t mind some relaxation.

They sit down, and Felix tilts his head back, sighing all the air out of his lungs, and his body deflates on the uncomfortable chair. He hears a waiter or waitress walk by and ask what they want, and Sylvain says something Felix doesn’t bother listening to.

‘Don’t you want something, Felix?’

‘No.’ He blinks, thinking about it. ‘Fresh water.’

‘Come on! I’m paying tonight. How boring-’ Sylvain comments, but clears his throat. ‘Well, water is as fine as anything else.’

Felix’s eyebrow arches up. He’s been acting sort of weird ever since he asked him to come to this tavern with him, but he decides to keep paying his strange attitude no mind. He’ll end up spouting out whatever he has to say eventually.

‘Tired of playing with the kid?’

‘We weren’t playing. It was training,’ Felix corrects, sighing again. Goddess, all his joints hurt. The little thing sure has energy for a tiny seven-year-old. ‘He has talent. But needs to do something about his father’s stupid strength.’

Sylvain smiles, and Felix’s eyes fixate on his nose. It is still so funny, and mysterious in a way, that suddenly that thing Sylvain prided himself in so much is broken. From what he had heard, it had hindered his “flirting capabilities” a little and, honestly, he had it coming. Felix felt not pity for him, and still doesn’t.

He has heard multiple stories as how that happened, but Sylvain’s version - he remembered his bitter, heartbroken face vividly - was that a servant had found out he had been sleeping with his fianceé, another maid from the castle. Felix had scoffed. That sounded like something Sylvain would do.

‘So,’ Sylvain won’t let some silence grow between them, apparently. ‘Did you hear the news?’

‘Depends on what news, Sylvain.’ He isn’t that in contact with… anything that isn’t his close friends and the Kingdom territory, really.

‘Remember Lorenz? That guy with purple hair that was in Golden Deer in the academy, and then joined the Empire, but then defected to our side?’

‘Uh.’ Felix frowns, trying to remember. ‘That guy that pulled all his hair to one side?’

‘Yes, that one. Lorenz Whatever Gloucester.’

Felix also remembered his voice being irritating. ‘What is that guy doing anyway.’

‘There was a scandal around him lately, apparently.’

Felix huffs, way too exhausted for this conversation. ‘Sylvain, you know I couldn’t give less of a shit about gossip.’

Sylvain makes that puppy eyed face that is becoming less and less convincing with every year that passes. ‘Come on. It’s really funny! Just this once?’

‘Well.’ Felix groans. ‘It’s not like I have the energy to run away.’

‘Good.’ Sylvain’s face lights up. ‘So, as it turns out… He had some random kids. And no, he wasn’t married.’

‘I didn’t ask.’

‘The funny part is that apparently he was always going on about nobility and proper manners and all that stuff? And suddenly he has two two children. And nobody knows where the two brats came from.’

Felix frowns. That sounds painfully familiar. ‘Maybe it’s for the best they don’t know.’

Sylvain seems to start considering his words better, because he taps at his cheek as he thinks about them. The waitress arrives with their beverages, and Sylvain takes a sip. ‘Funny how these things keep happening, huh.’

‘I don’t find it funny, but to each their own, I guess.’

‘You’re not in a very good mood, are you, Felix?’ Sylvain smiles, tired himself. ‘Worse than usual, anyway.’

‘I’m just... tired, too tired for your nonsense.’ Felix takes a sip of his own glass of water. How ridiculous, going outside for some water. But he isn’t hungry, not really. He just wants some damn sleep.

And for once, Sylvain shuts his damn mouth.

They walk outside of the tavern not too much later, but it feels like the air has gotten ten times colder, and Felix shivers. Suddenly, something is surrounding his neck, and he grabs it violently.

‘Calm down, Felix,’ Sylvain says, a smile in his voice as always. ‘It’s just my scarf.’

‘I didn’t ask for it.’

‘But I, as the excellent friend I am-’ Oh, Felix is going to punch him before the end of the night. ‘-will lend you this, because I know how much of a freezy boy you are.’

‘You’re way too old to be saying those words,’ however, Felix lets him wrap the thing around his neck. ‘That I don’t think even exist.’ Freezy. What the hell.

‘My soul is still young, Felix. You couldn’t possibly understand.’

'I won't deny you act like a five year old sometimes.'

Sylvain's eyes linger on Felix, and if he notices it, he doesn't react to it, scarf carefully wrapped around his neck. He isn't wrong, Felix is more sensitive to the cold than any person from Northern Faerghus should be, but these kinds of gestures, at this point…

They go back to the castle, and Sylvain puts his hand on Felix's back. He doesn't brush him away, but the touch isn't acknowledged either.

Wanting to say many things, and yet being unable to actually push those words beyond his throat, is a feeling he's used to when he look at Felix.

"I want to do things right." He had practiced in front of the mirror. "I want to… be by your side in the right way."

_I want to love you right this time_, he had thought.

And yet he can't say anything.

Dimitri is so damn open about his love for Felix, or as open as he could be, it being a secret relationship - whatever the nature of said relationship was. But even when in secret, Dimitri's eyes linger on Felix, he touches Felix so casually, and Felix would lean on him so subtly. His voice cadence would change whenever he'd talk about Felix, and to those who know about t_hem_, he is ever the sap whenever Felix comes up. It makes Sylvain want to throw up sometimes.

Though maybe he is trying to imitate him a little, expecting Felix to react to his casual touches as he does to the king's. Which he doesn't. He isn't Dimitri, and he's never going to be.

They arrive at Felix's room in the Fhirdiad castle, a room Sylvain knows has been barely used. He leans down, leaving a casual, short kiss on Felix's mouth.

'Sylvain,' Felix breathes, frowning. 'I told you I'm really tired today.'

Sylvain winks. 'And that's why I can't give you a good night kiss?'

'As if those were your only intentions.' Felix pushes him away. 'Good night.'

"Maybe we could cuddle to sleep." For an impulsive, big-mouthed bastard, there sure are things he just leaves unsaid between him and Felix. '...Good night. Have nice dreams.'

Felix enters his room, and Sylvain stands there for a whole, painful minute, before he walks away.

Minutes later, Felix walks out of the room, and his steps guide him almost mechanically to the king's chambers.

* * *

He wakes up to familiar kisses in his hair, and a familiar arm surrounding his waist. It isn't always exactly like this, but it makes Felix groan anyway.

'Good morning, my dear.' Dimitri's voice is a little hoarse, early morning as it is. 'You slept like a log.'

'Mmh.' Felix makes a weak attempt at pushing him away, which doesn't work. 'I was tired.'

'I noticed.' Dimitri buries his face in Felix's shoulder, tightening his hug.

'Ugh. You're like a dog,' Felix whines. 'Always so clingy.'

'I like dogs...'

'I don't. I prefer cats.'

'You're very much like one, Felix.'

Felix rolls his eyes. 'Am I now.'

'Yes,' he answers, and his lips trace the curve of his ear, kissing it. Felix shivers. 'You have limited patience, and a limit to how many cuddles you want. You'll kick me if I surpass that limit.' Dimitri chuckles, and Felix's heart skips a beat. 'Your ways of showing affection are subtle, but sweet all the same.'

Felix opens his mouth, but the words die under the sound of someone knocking at the king's door.

Dimitri leaves one last kiss in Felix's hair before getting up to attend whoever it is. Felix, meanwhile, curls up under the thick blankets, hiding his presence well enough. It's not like Dimitri will let the man in.

'Your Majesty.' The voice of a guard reaches him even from his hiding spot. 'Sir Dedue is back. He brings a child with him.'

'Ah, I see. Thank you.' Felix can hear a wide grin in Dimitri's smile. 'You're dismissed. I'll go meet him myself.'

'Understood, Your Majesty.'

The man leaves, and Felix rises between the blankets. As soon as humanly possible, the boar is by his side, kissing his cheek.

'A child?' Felix inquiries.

'Some months ago, he visited Mercedes and Ashe's orphanage. Apparently, he wished to adopt one of the children there.' Dimitri explains, placing Felix's hair behind his ear. 'I gave him my blessing, of course.'

'He shouldn't need a _blessing_ for that.'

'I'm of the same opinion, but he thought it was proper. As if I'd ever be against him forming his own family.' Dimitri sighs, kissing Felix's temple. 'And… Well, Vad- Adrien is a lonely child here. Another one would do wonders for him.'

'Always thinking about the piglet.' Felix's voice comes out immensely softer than he intended to.

Dimitri, however, nuzzles Felix's neck and whines. 'Don't call him that…'

'You're the only one that minds it.' Felix smiles despite himself. 'He's fine with it.'

'Yes, but…'

'Shouldn't you be getting ready to meet your oh so loyal servant?' Felix interrupts.

'Yes… you're right.' He finally stops clinging to him, and gets up to get dressed.

Felix's eyes linger on Dimitri's back muscles and the familiar scarred skin, but just a little.

Felix's own clothes are carefully placed on one of Dimitri's chairs, and he puts them back on, styling his hair as usual.

'Have you thought of wearing a braid? Like Ingrid used to.'

'More impractical.'

Dimitri doesn't say anything else, focusing on tying up his own hair, getting it out of his face.

'I'm going to meet Dedue and the child.'

'Uh-huh.'

'Will you wait for me to eat breakfast?'

'No.'

Dimitri expects that answer, so he just leans down to kiss Felix. 'I'll see you later then,' he makes a small pause, 'my dear.'

'You _had_ to say it.'

'I had to.' His gaze is unbearably sweet, so Felix looks away from it.

Would that be so bad? To have all your mornings be like this?

Dimitri walks out of the room, leaving Felix behind, alone with his thoughts.

He knows where Dedue must be waiting for him, so he heads there. He has described the child to him: named Adel, shy, with orange long hair, strong temperament, with a scar that covered half of her face and rendered one of her eyes almost useless. That last detail had stood out to Dimitri, the eye.

Remembering how he lost his own is still enough to make him slightly upset. He'd rather not remember those years, or the whispers would come back.

Dimitri massages his temples, frowning deeply. This is no time for a headache.

He arrives, hearing a Dedue's soft, low voice alongside a most strident one. When he enters their field of vision, the child hides behind Dedue, and Dimitri can see one green eye behind the man.

'It's a joy to see you again, Your Majesty.' Dedue bows slightly, and proceeds to put a hand on Adel's hair.

'I could say the same, Dedue. And now, who…'

'The eyepatch was real,' she whispers, realizing way too late that she has said it out loud. Dimitri blinks, confused, as she covers her mouth with her hand, hiding deeper behind Dedue. 'S-Sorry.'

'I did tell you His Majesty had an eyepatch.' He seems amused, but tries to calm her down with a soft pat on her head.

'I'm not angry, Adel,' Dimitri assures. 'That is your name, isn't it?'

It takes a while, but she nods slowly.

‘Adel… Moli- Molinaro.’

Dimitri isn’t looking, but he knows Dedue is smiling. He squats down, staying at her same eye level.

‘I have to ask you a favor only you can do, Adel.’

She looks at him, genuinely curious, probably wondering why the king himself is asking him any favor. ‘Y-Yes?’

‘I have a son… His name is Vadim. He’s a happy boy, but I’m afraid he doesn’t have many friends. So… Could you try being his friend?’

‘B-But… he’ll be scared of me…’

‘He won’t. He might need to get used to it at first, but I assure you he won’t be scared.’ There’s still doubt in Adel’s face, so he continues, ‘He’s used to seeing people with nasty scars. And he’s a kind soul. I promise it will be alright.’

Adel seems to contemplate the idea for a short while, and finally steps out of Dedue’s shadow, taking a clumsy bow. Dimitri can see the scar between the rebellious strands of orange hair. ‘I-I will then! I will try.’

Dimitri smiles. ‘That’s plenty enough for me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy this was the longest chapter so far I think. Almost 7K words. I hope it was at least enjoyable! Also it introduces another one of my ocs, Dedue's child, Adel. Y'all better protect her Or Else.


	5. You fermented in my bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this chapter was torture to write AND proofread. So this chapter was gonna be even LONGER, but I decided to divide it in two. Somehow it still came out as almost 8k words. Hopefully, ch6 will be easier to write.

**Fraldarius dukedom**

The boar sure likes to make a big deal out of events that aren’t that important, but only this time, he can agree with him. Spring is coming up after an especially merciful winter, but during this time there’s only one thought reigning over Felix’s mind.

Adrien’s birthday.

Dimitri, too, has it on his mind, judging by the letters he’s been sending. Ever since Ethereal Moon, he’s been planning Adrien’s birthday, asking for Felix’s opinion on certain matters and if he is going to attend.

Felix scoffs. Of course he will. He’s been attending each and every one since the child was three, despite his own anxiety every time that date creeped closer on the calendar. With it, memories of the past also come back, even if every year Felix tries to bury and ignore them. Memories of the things he regrets, for the most part. 

“An early spring child…” the boar had said, his whole face shining with happiness, almost ten years ago now. That thought is heavy in his stomach, as he lies back on the chair: Ten years. Has it really been that long? How has it gone by that quickly? It feels like only weeks ago when he…

“You won’t call our child a nuisance, Felix.” 

Dimitri had looked so angry, so offended, and Felix still wonders what the hell had gone through his head to say something like that.

Felix covers his face with his hands, dragging them down. He remembers it so clearly, so vividly, that it’s like living through it again. Through Dimitri’s happiness and disappointment in him.

He also remembers the damned song of Loog he never resumed singing to Adrien.

Ten years, and he never sang it to him to the end. He’d wonder what the hell he’s been doing with his time, but he knows it very well. Wasting it away.

Felix rubs his eyes, and hears an upbeat voice outside of his quarters. It must be one of the maids, singing a song. It reminds him of Annette - he silently hopes she’s taking breaks at her work in the Academy.

Maybe he should take a break too. Wallowing in things lost to the past is Dimitri’s thing, not his.

There’s a small celebration going on in the citadel for the winter’s end, and that sounds distracting enough. Maybe he could find a present for Adrien there since, as usual, he doesn’t have anything, and the boar wouldn’t let him live it down if he gave him another sword.

And so he slowly gets dressed, cozy enough for the still cold weather, and, after a moment of hesitation, decides to head there.

* * *

**Ex-Alliance territory**

A child tugs at her father’s sleeve insistently as he tries to read a letter. He puts a hand on her dark curly hair, ruffling it softly, and sighs, the frown on his face deepening.

‘Tell me what’s on your mind, Sarah.’

‘What’s that, papa?’ she inquires, looking at the letter in his hand. 

‘It’s from… the king, sweetheart.’ Her eyes open wide, and he smiles as he pulls her up on his lap. ‘Apparently, his son is going to be ten years old soon. It must be quite the festivity, if he’s inviting even Leicester nobles…’

He wonders if he invited the little that there is left of Adrestian nobility as he fidgets with one of Sarah’s curls.

‘Us? Esen and grandpa are coming too?’

‘I wouldn’t count grandpa in, but Esen will surely come with us.’ She seems pleased, as she smiles a little and lies back against her father’s chest. He kisses her hair. ‘May I know where your brother is?’

‘Sleeping.’

She sounds bored, and he finally understands why she’s here: Esen won’t play with her. In that case, it wouldn’t do any bad to read her a fairytale. He’s done with his work for today, so he folds the letter, thinking about answering it later - with a yes, obviously. 

Sarah hops off his lap. ‘Papa!’ He looks at her. ‘If it’s a big party, do I get to wear a cute dress?’

He laughs. ‘Of course, my dear. And a cute hairstyle too. Your brother, as well.’ She giggles, excited at the prospect. ‘Everyone shall see how cute and elegant Sarah Luna Gloucester is.’

She laughs again, her face blushing. ‘Yes!!’

  


Hilda arrives one week before they must depart, and Lorenz cannot possibly feel more thankful for a chance of having an adult he can speak to normally with outside of Ignatz’s casual visits. The compliments of how stunning she looks come immediately to him, out of habit, but it’s true: She always looks her best.

The kids are also happy to see her, jumping into her strong arms as soon as they see her, and a couple of maids carry her presents for the children inside the house.

Only the old count Gloucester isn’t present, but Hilda doesn’t ask why. She’s happy just seeing her friend and the two children, who are growing way too fast for anyone’s liking.

‘Goddess, Sarah, last time I came here you were so tiny! You’re still so cute though.’ She smooches the little girl’s cheek, and the latter laughs. ‘Go check your presents, if you want. I have to talk with your dad here for a moment.’

‘Alright!’ she says, and Esen simply nods before he ends up being dragged away by his sister.

Lorenz gives her a look, and she just smiles and slides an envelope into his hands. Through the gloves, Lorenz can feel small lumps, and smiles. He can guess what they could be.

His heart feels warm as they head inside the house, and Lorenz hides the letter inside his jacket. ‘Thank you.’

‘It has some months of delay… I’m sorry. But nothing big has happened that we know of.’

‘That’s quite fine, Hilda. I’m still grateful.’

Hilda smiles back. ‘You’re really out there living a whole romance novel, aren’t you?’

‘Perhaps.’ Lorenz purses his lips. ‘I just hope this one ends well.’

* * *

**Fhirdiad**

Like every morning the king can’t eat breakfast with him, Vadim is in a significantly worse mood than usual. Even if that absence is probably because of the whole party they’re going to throw for him.

Adel doesn’t really care as long as she gets to eat as much as he wants, and father has assured her it’d be that way. She trusts father’s word more than anything.

‘Let’s go somewhere fun, Adel.’ When the prince suggests that, with a pout and big doe eyes, she sighs. Well, he doesn’t have much to do until the evening. ‘But not the stables.’

Adel huffs at the frown on her friend’s face. ‘I still don’t get it.’

‘They’re evil creatures, Adel! I can _ feel _it. For real!!’

His friend keeps laughing at him mercilessly, sinking on her chair, and the prince blushes despite being more than used to her harshness at this point. ‘Fine! Keep being a bully!’

‘Sorry, sorry. It’s just funny… His Majesty likes horses so much, but…’

‘That’s because dad is invincible. He’s big and strong and not even horses fear him.’ Vadim’s hands turn into fists over the table. ‘He’s…’

‘Amazing,’ Adel finishes, taking one last bite of her fruit.

‘Precisely.’ And the prince’s chest inflates with pride. Some servants walk in, waltzing around them as they clean up their breakfast table, and Vadim gets up. Adel follows after, hands around her back like her father does around His Majesty, and Vadim speaks again. ‘Dad said the guests should be starting to arrive today… I wonder what kind of people they are.’

‘Nobles?’

‘Yes, but…’ His mind seems to jump to another thing, because he gasps and turns to Adel. ‘Do you think Felix will come?’ Her confused face is telling. ‘Blue hair, angry face?’ Adel frowns. ‘Duke Fralder… Freldari… The man that taught us fencing four months ago!’

‘Oh.’ Now she seems to recall, and there’s a small smile on her face. ‘If he’s His Majesty’s friend, then probably.’

‘I think they’re friends! I think Dad said Felix was his best friend.’ Adel notices the prince’s steps are taking them straight to the garden, which is still recovering from the winter, although better than other years. But it’s a place as good as any. ‘And when Felix comes visit they’re always together. And he’s so nice to us…’

Considering his constant grumble, especially towards the king himself, she can think of him being nice to them by comparison. Even though she has noticed the bias he seems to have for the prince, who wouldn’t have a bias for the heir of the crown?

As long as he was nice enough to her, she wouldn’t mind it that much.

Suddenly, Adrien gasps, and she sees him sticking his nose on the glass of a nearby window. ‘A white wyvern!!!’

‘What?!’ She rushes to his side. 

‘It just flew by!’ His eyes are as sparkly as they can be. ‘It’s one of the guests, Adel!!’

Even before she can react properly, the prince starts running to the entrance hall, and Adel after him.

* * *

‘Do you think… he will attend?’

Hilda looks up from Esen, who’s sleeping peacefully on her lap. How both twins are able to sleep with the uneven hops of the carriage, she’ll never understand, but it’s good that at least they are managing to rest.

‘Dimitri invited him,’ she says. ‘So I assume he will! You know he can’t resist a feast.’

‘I suppose…’ Lorenz strokes Sarah’s wavy hair, unable to look at her. ‘And if he does attend… They will see him.’

‘Why so much worry, Lorenz? I doubt they’ll say “oh, that’s my dad!” as soon as they see him…’

Lorenz sighs, closing his eyes. ‘Still…’

‘Ugh,’ Hilda groans, but tries to whisper for the children’s sake. ‘It irritates me so much.’

Those words make Lorenz finally react and look directly at her. ‘What does?’

‘Your oh so scary dad!’ Her voice is harsher than usual. ‘Who cares if the kids are illegitimate. They’re still yours! They can still inherit Gloucester anyway! So why is being so mean to you and them necessary?’

Lorenz’s shoulders sink. ‘Hilda, you're aware it’s not all my father’s fault…’

‘But… you’re always so sad, Lorenz.’

He blinks, caught off guard. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘Everytime I visit, you’re so tired.’ She looks down at the kids. ‘They also complain to me about that.’

‘They do, don't they…’ Lorenz shakes his head, and sighs again. ‘Well, that’s just how the busy life of the future head of a noble house is.’

Hilda huffs, clearly frustrated. ‘Even now, we’re heading to a ball! A ball, Lorenz! And you don’t seem excited at all.’

‘I am plenty excited, I just…’

‘You’re worrying over stuff that you can’t solve by yourself.’

He looks down at Sarah again, fingers twirling around her hair as she sleeps, and then at Esen, his purple hair distinguishable under the little sunlight that comes into the carriage. A necklace weighs against his chest, under his shirt.

‘...You’re not… wrong, Hilda,' he sighs. 'He swore it… I must trust him.’ 

‘That’s what I like to hear,’ she says, a sincere smile on her face. ‘Now, try to get some rest.’

Lorenz nods. Maybe that’s the best the can do right now.

* * *

The first guest to arrive for the celebration is a surprise in every way. Being honest, Dimitri hasn’t even expected him to be able to come, maybe even suspected the letter wouldn’t even arrive in time. But apparently, it did, because one day one of his guards announces to him that Claude, His Majesty king of Almyra, has arrived in Fhirdiad early in the morning.

He doesn’t know what to expect, but then again, does anyone know what to ever expect from Claude? 

‘Please, give me a moment. I’ll meet him in some minutes. Allow the Almyrans to allocate their wyverns among ours. Tell them to wait in the entrance hall.’

‘Understood.’ The guard bows down and walks away, leaving Dimitri alone with his own questions. He gets up from the desk, straightening his clothes to look mildly presentable. 

Unpredictable as always, that man. Now he might even cause a bad impression to him and his companions. He walks out of the room, adjusting a cape over his shoulders. 

Not all nobles had been content with the idea of the new Almyran king coming to the Faerghus prince's tenth birthday celebrations, but Dimitri wouldn't listen to their nonsense.

Dedue catches up to him on the way, walking one step behind him. 'You seem excited.'

'I am. It's been years since I last saw him.' Memories of the war, and the feast that came after winning it start playing in Dimitri's mind. 'He attended my coronation, even, and yet… Well. He was always one for secrets.'

Dedue nods, a small smile on his lips.

However, it seems like someone else has welcomed their guests first.

'Are all wyverns white in your place, sir?!'

'No, kids. Travant is special, you see. He's the coolest wyvern to ever exist.'

'He is!!'

Claude's hair has grown up to reach the skin a little below his shoulders, and it is carefully kept from covering his face with a bandana. Aside from that, he hasn't changed much: The easy smile is still on his face, his eyes are still sharp and vibrant as always when they meet Dimitri's.

'Here he is - the Tempest King himself! I thought you'd never come.'

'I apologize that my son and Adel had to welcome you in my stead. Surely you don't mind being welcomed twice.'

'Of course not.' He walks closer to Dimitri, opening his arms. 'Come on, Your Kingliness.'

Dimitri scoffs, but concedes to the hug, patting Claude's back and trying to not accidentally lift him off the ground. Dammit, he's tiny still.

When the hug breaks, Adrien runs back to Claude's side, while Adel hides behind Dedue instead. 

'He has white wyverns, dad! They're all white!'

'Oh? _ They _ are?'

'Ah, yes, you see...’ Claude’s chest seems to inflate with pride. ‘Travant had babies some time ago… They were of age to travel, so I brought them with us.'

Dimitri’s eyebrows arch up. 'I'd love to see such specimens.'

Adrien tugs at Dimitri's shirt, hopping excitedly on the spot. 'I wanna see them again, too! Let's go let's go!!'

Dimitri ruffles his hair, smiling affectionately. 'Later, Adrien. Right now I'd like to spend some time with my old friend.'

He pouts, and Claude seems to take pity on the child. 'Well, it'll only be a short while. I promise I'll present you two,' he says, looking at the other child hiding behind Dedue, 'to the wyverns later.'

The small grin on Dedue’s face doesn’t escape the Almyran king’s eyes, nor does the pat he leaves on the kid’s head. The prince seems satisfied with that reply, and happily walks by his father’s side as Dimitri himself shows him the way to his chambers and starts explaining the intricacies of the next days of festivities.

* * *

‘Kid. KID.’

Claude had thought the time to have Nader’s voice wake him up, and with that word on top of that, had passed. But apparently that isn’t the case, for the man’s face is hovering over him, an irritating grin on his face like he knows something Claude doesn’t.

Maybe that’s why he even bothers trying to wake up instead of covering himself fully with the blankets.

‘What is it now, Nader.’ His voice sounds rough and annoyed, which only widens said grin more.

‘He’s here.’ Oddly ominous for someone smiling like he’s about to have the time of his life. ‘Your stuck-up fiancé boy.’

And then it clicks.

He’s in Fhirdiad.

It’s the prince’s 10th birthday.

Lorenz is here. 

Claude stumbles his way out of the bed, not even noticing how cold he is until he has to start sorting out which clothes he’s going to wear for the day. ‘Tell someone to start preparing a bath for me! And why didn’t you wake me up earlier!’

‘I tried, Your Majesty,’ Nader says, harmless mockery in his voice. ‘But you overslept.’

He overslept again. Oh, everything is a mess. Somehow, in one day, the king of Almyra has managed to make a guest room into a disaster. His hair is tangled in at least five spots and he has to take that damn bath - but he can do this. His mind starts plotting, as he gets an embroidered vest out of the wardrobe he himself had to organize.

A thing few people know, Lorenz among them, is that Claude is the kind of person that thrives in his own mess, and his lover has known it to be like this since their academic days. 

It’s more than an hour later when he’s finally dressed up somewhat nicely, brown locks of hair pushed out of his face with a ponytail tied with a red ribbon. Some fall around his face, but they don’t annoy him as much.

He should get a haircut, but that can wait. 

‘Do you know where he is?’

‘I guess eating breakfast? He arrived really early.’

‘...Was he accompanied?’

‘By Holst’s sister and two children.’

Hilda. Two children. Claude’s heart skips a beat. When he looks at Nader, his mockery has turned into a specific kind of softness.

_ Keep your composure, Claude _. He’s always been good at this. At pretending his mind isn’t always filled with thoughts going around. But there’s only one thing in his mind now.

Esen. Sarah.

It’s been so long he can hardly keep his usual serene demeanor up when he walks out of the room, followed by Nader. A servant guides them to the dining hall, and Claude looks around seeking to memorize this castle as quick as possible. An old habit.

However, Lorenz isn’t there. Would asking directly about him be too much? He has to sit down to eat nonetheless, but…

He’ll be patient. There’s a whole day ahead, and he needs to eat almost as much as to see them. Even as he eats, he tries to do it in the fastest way he can without being rude. Isn’t this his first appearance in Faerghus, period? He has to give Almyra a good image as its king. And he’s already overslept on the first day.

‘Thank you,’ he thanks the service, getting up just a tad too quickly from the chair. Where could he be? Drinking tea, probably, but also around the kids. But this place is so damn big and he knows so little of it despite the previous investigation that-

‘...Majesty.’ He thinks Nader is talking to him, but instead, his retainer has King Dimitri of Faerghus in front of him.

His saving grace.

‘Your Kingliness!’

Dimitri, as usual, laughs at the nickname. ‘Good morning for you as well, Claude.’ Nader stands aside. ‘So,’ Dimitri says. ‘Lost already?’

‘Of course not. I prefer to call it… exploring.’

‘Well, you do you. I was on my way to meet Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.’

The stars couldn't have been aligned more perfectly for Claude, and Dimitri seems to be a little too aware of his intentions. Good thing he’s on his side.

‘I guess you don’t mind if I join?’

‘Of course not.’ Dimitri grins. 'He has adorable kids, I’ve heard. They've been playing with Vadim the whole morning.’

_ They are _, Claude is tempted to say, as he follows Dimitri, who starts talking about politics. 

‘Things have been rather quiet around the north, but the south has been something else entirely.’

‘Old Imperial territory?’

‘Precisely.’ Dimitri sighs. ‘Even though it’s obviously not as bad as it used to, sometimes the occasional rebellion still rises and we have to keep part of our attention there.’

‘At least the Old Alliance isn’t causing any major trouble, I assume?’

‘It isn’t.’ He smiles, thankful. ‘I have you to thank for it, Claude. You really left everything well tied up.’

Despite himself, Claude grins proudly. ‘It wasn’t just me. The other nobles had to agree and put some effort into it.’

‘Including Gloucester.’

Oh, so now he is trying to shift the conversation there? It’s not like Dimitri doesn’t have weak points on that flank, even if Claude doesn’t want to use them. Because from what little he’s been able to observe Dimitri and Vadim, he has big suspicions about what could’ve happened for the king of Faerghus to be raising a prince alone.

‘Including him.’ 

He remembers count Gloucester, and not in a nice way. But that doesn’t matter, not when he could be thinking of the count’s son. When he could be seeing him.

As they go around a corner, Claude hears a sound, and his heartbeat picks up. Dimitri puts a hand on his shoulder, and walks up to the first door, knocking on it. 'Sir Lorenz. I'm afraid I have something urgent to attend. However, I've found a fitting companion.'

'Oh? Who might it be-?'

Even before Lorenz finishes his sentence, Claude has rushed to Dimitri's side, one step inside of the room already. 

There's a moment of quiet, of them staring into the other's eyes, waiting for a confirmation that what they're seeing is real. 

And then Lorenz gets up, and Claude's arms are open, and Lorenz stumbles just a little before being surrounded by them, with the strength of years without getting to hug his beloved. 

'Claude,' Lorenz murmurs, holding Claude's face, running his fingers through his hair. 'Oh, Claude…'

'I'm right here,' he replies, sweet and sincere, 'Lorenz.'

* * *

When Felix arrives, it's the day before the proper festivities start, and the castle is filled with way too many nobles for Felix's liking. The whole city seems to be in the mood to celebrate the prince’s tenth birthday, if not the whole country, and maybe Felix should be glad that Adrien is this popular, but what sits in the pit of his stomach is a massive amount of fear.

Lambert had also been a popular king.

At night, he decides to inhale a bunch of fresh air before going to sleep, his thoughts about the previous king and his own father weighing on his mind. The present he had bought a couple months ago weighs on his palm when night falls over him and he stares at the garden. Adrien will probably be too busy tomorrow to spend much time with him, but…

But…

'Felix!!!'

His youthful voice feels like a hallucination until he actually sees him running through the garden, a lamp on his hand. A part of him wants to embrace him tightly and kiss his wavy golden hair. The bigger part of him wins out, and Felix hides the present and frowns.

‘Adrien.’ He raises an eyebrow, looking up at the guards that stand at a prudential distance from them. ‘What are you doing out here this late?’

The kid flinches a little at his harsh tone. ‘Well… A servant told me you were here! I wanted to see you!’

‘Why?’ Felix sighs, feeling a familiar sting in his chest. ‘Your birthday is tomorrow. You should be sleeping.’

‘Yes, but…’ Despite his previous reaction, Adrien sits down with him, leaving the lamp carefully at his side. ‘Will you teach me and Adel swordsmanship later? When the party is done?’

‘Is that what you came to ask me?’ Adrien nods, eyes wide open, smiling from ear to ear. Goddess, this kid. ‘I will. It’s all I have to do here, anyway.’

Adrien yells happily, falling back on the grass and then sitting up again. ‘Yes! I knew you would!’

‘If you asked, it means you were doubting it.’ Something tugs at the corners of his mouth, and Felix has to force himself to not smile.

‘It’s just… there is a lot of people here now, and maybe…’ His eyes suddenly seem teary, but maybe it’s just the shaky light. ‘You didn’t want to teach us and wanted to be with the adults.’

Felix scoffs. Now that’s a funny thought. ‘I’d much rather spend hours with you two than a single minute surrounded by them, piglet.’

The little piglet smiles, and Felix finally does as well, his heart constricted in a soft, warm grip. 

‘I’ll take you to your room,’ he finally says, getting up. Adrien imitates him, and grabs the lamp from the floor. Apparently, that confirmation is all the kid needed from him. Despite his previous energy, Adrien just walks by his side in silence, that small grin on his youthful face as he grips the lamp and keeps it up. The guards behind them, the same ones as before, walk behind, whispering something Felix would rather not hear.

He’s heard enough rumours. 

Adrien’s room is where it’s always been, ever since the first time Felix came visit him. The piglet walks in, Felix doesn’t. He has no business inside this room.

Felix would walk away, but there’s something keeping him here. And Adrien is a smart young boy, so he notices, and waits for Felix to say something.

It comes out slowly, words crawling out of his mouth.

‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to give you this tomorrow,’ Felix says, trying to sound dry, detached, uninterested. It doesn’t work. ‘So, take it. An… early birthday present.’

He hands Adrien a brooch, in the shape of a blue dragonfly. The prince observes it before picking it, his mouth gape in surprise.

‘But this is cheating!’ he says, trying to sound offended. ‘I can only receive presents tomorrow.’

‘It’s fine. I’m allowed to cheat.’

‘You are.’ The confidence in Adrien’s voice when he says that slightly startles Felix. He wonders what that could mean. 

‘Anyway.’ Felix shakes his head. ‘You don’t… have to wear it. Just keep it. That’s enough for me.’

Adrien nods. ‘But I want to wear it! I’ll try to put it on myself tomorrow.’

Another smile. Felix feels strangely soft tonight. ‘Do whatever you want. Although you’re pretty good at that already, huh? Spoiled piglet.’ 

At least, the piglet has the decency of looking a little embarrassed as he fidgets with the brooch. ‘Maybe.’

Felix laughs shortly, and composes himself again. ‘Good night, piglet prince. You don’t need anyone to tuck you in bed anymore, I hope.’

‘I don’t!’ Felix feels the smallest tinge of disappointment. Of course he doesn’t. He’s ten years old now. ‘Good night!!’

A closed door, and Felix is alone in the corridor again, standing behind the guards that have witnessed the whole exchange. He shoves one hand in his pocket, and the other he rests on the handle of his sword. 

He neither needs nor wants guards, and they don’t try to follow him.

His heart beats strongly in his chest. It feels hollow, as he walks past another big, solemn door. He could walk to his own room, he’s tired, and tomorrow the party is going to be exhausting, being surrounded by nobles and bored - also noble - children he will relate to too much. 

But he doesn’t do that. Instead he looks up at the familiar, solitary figure that guards Dimitri’s chambers and looks over the whole hallway. Dedue isn’t a man of many words, and there aren’t any this time. The man just scans him two or three times, and Felix knocks.

He hears a weak groan, and takes it as an explicit permission.

Dimitri is sitting in front of his desk, lying back on his chair, looking distantly at the ceiling. The door closes behind Felix, and this time he is inside the room, locked with the beast. 

After a couple of silent seconds, Dimitri inhales sharply and rubs his face with his hands. Felix walks closer to him, and hesitates. Despite the years and the improvements to Dimitri’s mental health, sometimes his ghosts come back, and they don’t know anything of the occupations of the mortals. They don’t care if tomorrow is Adrien’s birthday, if Dimitri needs to rest, if Felix wishes to never see him like this again.

They just appear, and torture him until something grounds him back to the earth. Sometimes Felix himself is that something.

When Dimitri’s eye meets Felix’s, a shaky breath comes out of his mouth. ‘F-Felix.’

Dimitri’s hand covers his, and their fingers are immediately intertwined. Felix sighs. ‘So this is why Adrien wasn’t with you.’

‘Adrien…’

‘He’s fine. I left him in his room.’

Something in Dimitri deflates in relief. He puts Felix’s hand on his face, and it feels cold, distracting him from his own spiralling thoughts. He leans against his chest, sighing tiredly.

‘Would you- Would you allow me your company tonight?’

‘I guess I have to.’

He doesn’t have to. He can leave. Dimitri will be hurt, but won’t hold it against him. Dimitri himself thinks that maybe he should bear this alone. That it’s his atonement, or whatever bullshit his self-deprecation has created to justify going through everything alone.

Maybe that’s why he stays, to contrast Dimitri and his thoughts. To tell him without words this isn’t any stupid atonement, but yet another consequence of something he has no control over.

When Dimitri kisses the palm of his hand, with such a loving touch, eye closed, Felix knows it’s not just that. He’s had more than ten years to realize this. Of course he knows.

This is the man he searched for for five years, and the man he had a child with. 

‘You need sleep,’ he says, curling his fingers, brushing his skin with his knuckles, ‘Dimitri.’

The man-beast looks at him, and nods weakly.

* * *

He wakes up to a sudden cold along all his body, and it takes him a moment to realize that Dimitri has stopped holding him. He could easily grab the blankets and go back to sleep, but instead he turns around, to the man sitting on the bed, burying his face in his hands.

'A nightmare.'

Dimitri groans in response. It was to be expected, seeing as how he was feeling previously, but it still leaves a bad taste on Felix's mouth. And he's bad at dealing with this.

Maybe he's bad at kindness altogether.

But he has to try, and a hesitating hand lands on the boar's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. One of Dimitri's hands falls to his lap, while the other covers the one on his shoulder, stroking it.

Dimitri opens his mouth, and then closes it immediately, trying to think his words through properly. '...Thank you.'

He lies back on the bed with a tired huff, and Felix looks at him from above. In the darkness, he can't see the details of Dimitri's expression, but he can imagine it.

He lies down by his side, and like so many times before, Dimitri's arm surrounds him, and his forehead is on Felix's shoulder. Dimitri sighs, breathing in again when his lover's fingers wrap themselves in his hair.

Dimitri wishes his bad nights could always be like this. Felix wishes it too.

* * *

The day is just as hectic as he thought it would be, and just as tiresome. He notices some odd things, the first of them being Sylvain’s absence.. Either something has been keeping him in Gautier - Sreng has attacked, probably - or he’s a coward. There will be time to discuss that, anyway, because there are more alarming things he has noticed.

Adrien has become friends, or as close to friends as you can become with someone in one day, with the Gloucester twins, and the rest might be too stupid or self-centered to realize, but he does. The girl has wavy brown hair and the same snake-ish features as her known father, stepping like the place is hers, while the boy walks behind her, gripping her dress, with his purple hair slicked back neatly. Both have darker skin than Lorenz, and… 

Felix has noticed the way Claude’s eyes follow them around. It’s not only that Claude likes children, but it’s the way he looks at these two specifically. A familiar kind of gaze.

_ Like they’re his whole world. _

The thought twists something in Felix’s chest, and he takes a sip of the tea he’s been drinking. Ingrid passes by, and asks his permission to eat one of the pastries on the table. She must be hungry and tired, as are most of the knights in Fhirdiad with this whole ordeal. She ends up eating all the pastries.

‘He seems to be having fun,’ she comments, giving Felix a strange look before going back to her post. Felix grunts. But she’s right: at the very least, Adrien seems to be enjoying himself on his special day, playing with children that aren’t Adel for once, and opening present after present.

A little spoiled piglet, Felix thinks with a small smile. He’s wearing the brooch, right over the neck of his shirt, and it matches his generally blue and golden outfit, and Felix hadn’t thought the kid would like it enough to remember about it.

He takes another sip of the tea, looking away.

  


Despite having what seems to be endless energy, even children get tired, and by the end of the day most of them are falling asleep in their parent’s arms. _ Coincidentally _, Claude helps Lorenz carry the twins to their bedroom, their heart eyes towards each other nauseating even if they’re trying - weakly - to keep up appearances.

Ever the good host, Dimitri has prepared a small dinner for the adults while the children are tucked away to their beds in the dining hall of the palace. It’d have been at least a nice part of the day, if it weren’t for the sudden presence of alcohol on the table among other beverages that Felix just knows Dimitri put there thinking of him.

Well, they look kind of like alcohol. Nobody will mock him for this. He’ll just stand in a corner, drink a little, and go to sleep. To his own room, this time. He’s not about to deal with some drunken noble.

Except that, even if Claude isn’t drunk (yet?), he’s still a bothersome noble. And for some reason, he’s walking towards him until he’s standing by his side. Felix growls.

‘What do you want?’

‘Can’t I just stand here, and enjoy the view?’

Felix sighs. Of course he’s not going to do just that, but he technically can’t stop him. ‘I guess.’

‘Thank you.’ 

There’s a minute of silence between them, so long that Felix thinks that maybe he was being serious. But of course not, because Claude starts talking. ‘Any particular reason why you’re here, away from everyone else?’

‘I could ask you the same.’

‘Well, I’d rather observe people,’ he replies, much to Felix’s surprise, ‘than be in the middle of the action. Old habits. Other people perform better there.’

‘Like Gloucester?’

And Claude’s smile disappears, only for a second, before his characteristic smirk comes back. ‘Yes. Like him.’

Felix huffs and turns his gaze to the man in question. He's talking to Dimitri of all people, and they seem to get along better than before. And maybe Felix knows why, but he won’t dwell on it too much.

Claude keeps talking. 'We have a bunch of things in common, Felix.'

'I can't see any.' But he can. The twins had been raised in Gloucester, and had appeared out of thin air. It is a familiar tale. 

'Them, too.' Claude seems to ignore his annoyed grumbles. 'Dimitri is a hopeless romantic. Just like Lorenz.' His smile turns into something softer, sadder. 'They'd wait for us for a whole lifetime.'

Felix swallows, his eyes fixed on the king of Faerghus. '...He would.'

Is Claude accusing him of being cruel to Dimitri? When he's doing the same to Lorenz? When he also abandoned their children? An empty anger creeps up his chest, and he grits his teeth. He's not being cruel. He just… How could this man possibly understand.

'I know how it is,' Claude says, his voice softer than before. 'Not being able to watch your kid as they grow.'

Except that maybe Claude understands him the most.

He doesn't want Claude to know. To see how much he regrets the past, how much he wishes he could've heard Adrien's first words or help him learn how to walk. Among other million things.

‘That’s why… I’m curious.’ Felix looks at him, and immediately regrets it. ‘Forgive me if I’m pushing too far, but… What are you… waiting for? What’s stopping you?’

_ What are you making Dimitri wait so long for. _

‘Why do you care?’

‘Because if I were in your situation, I’d be married three times over. But we’re not the same person, of course. Hence my curiosity.’

He doesn’t have the obligation to reply. He doesn’t have to let Claude know about the many reasons why he simply just wouldn’t be a good father to Adrien. Because he gave up on him so early, because he doesn’t want to become Rodrigue, because he isn’t responsible enough, because Adrien will hate him, because he doesn’t deserve him, because he is too late.

‘It’s too late,’ Felix repeats his own thoughts, his voice barely audible.

‘It never is. It’s worse the more you wait for it, but…’ Claude takes one last sip to whatever he’s been drinking. ‘There isn’t a point of no return, except death. That’s what I tell myself anyway.’

Claude leaves his empty glass on the table, and Felix raises an eyebrow.

‘I have things to do,’ Claude explains. ‘My wyverns won’t feed themselves.’

Felix has nothing else to say, and he doesn’t care about Claude’s wyverns anyway. So he just watches him go, from the corner of his eye, and his words dance in his head even when he has vanished.

* * *

Claude wasn’t lying: Travant, Altenna and Arion won’t feed themselves, and for sure won’t let anyone else feed them. Wyverns are special like that, and Travant has always been especially picky, being the big bastard lizard he is.

He walks his way through the castle hallways, and even with his pretty sharp memory, he needs directions a couple times. The castle grounds are big, and everything looks more or less the same, and he has to stop at the kitchens to get the bucket with food for the animals. But he finally gets to the stables where his wyverns sleep, and notices there’s a light inside already.

Who could be in there at this hour, besides him? Nader and most of his men stayed at the dining hall, so… 

He leaves the bucket of meat outside and walks in, lamp in one hand and the other on the handle of his dagger, just in case, trying to prepare for anything. But he surely doesn’t expect to see _ him _, of all people.

Esen yelps when he notices Claude’s presence, his hand still on Altenna’s snout. The wyvern whines, wanting the strokes to go on, and father and son seem to be the only ones to find this situation surprising, as the other wyverns keep snoring.

Claude blinks, and smiles, laughing briefly. ‘What are you doing here? I’d swear me and Lorenz put you two to bed an hour ago.’

‘I-I’m sorry,’ he apologizes, looking at the floor. 

‘You sneaked out?’ Esen looks away, before nodding weakly, his face flushed red. ‘Oh, I’d love to hear about how you did it. But, first of all-’ He frowns a little. ‘If you wanted to see the wyverns, you could’ve just asked me.’

Esen doesn’t reply, and Altenna groans again, brushing her nose against the kid. ‘Ah… sorry,’ he murmurs, stroking her again. Claude would be lying if he said his heart doesn’t turn into pure mush at the sight.

‘Mmh. I see you’re good friends with her already.’ Claude sits by their side, and watches Travant sleeping soundly by Altenna’s side. He hadn’t gotten overprotective of his children, and that’s what surprises Claude the most. That Travant still remembers Esen’s smell.

‘Do you think so?’ There’s a small smile on the child’s face, tugging at his heartstrings. ‘I think… we’re good friends too…’

‘Hey, Esen…’ The kid looks at him, and Claude inhales deeply. ‘Have you ever thought of becoming a wyvern rider?’

Esen blushes again, and fidgets with the hem of his shirt. ‘...Papa has told me a lot of stories… About wyvern riders. They’re stories from Almyra. We’re not allowed to tell grandpa about those stories because he’ll get mad.’ 

‘Mad?’

‘He’s always mad,’ Esen explains, sitting down in front of Claude. ‘But he’s nicer to Sarah. She has the crest of our house and can use magic. So she’s the next boss, after him and papa. So he pretends I’m not there.’

Claude presses his lips together and his hands turn into fists. ‘I see. That’s terrible.’

He should’ve expected that, but the weight of his son’s words is suddenly over him. It’s not like he wasn’t aware of the problems it’d cause to leave them in House Gloucester, but now the consequences are tangible in Esen’s words, and, to an extent, in his attitude.

‘But you’re no less than your sister,’ he reminds him.

‘Papa also says that,’ Esen concedes. ‘But it’s ok if I am. I can become a wyvern rider and fly all day…’

The words come out of his mouth as soon as he thinks them. ‘What if there was something waiting for you?’

Esen looks up, confused. ‘Something?’

‘Yes. What if there was some… role for you that you still don’t know about?’

The kid looks at him, mouth agape and eyes wide, before retreating by looking at Altenna again. It takes him a while to reply to Claude’s question. ‘I’d… try my best.’

‘Good… That’s good.’ He leans towards him, slowly so the kid can retreat if he wishes to. But Esen stays in place, a little stiff when Claude’s arms are around him, but relaxing a second after. 

Esen seems to take a breath in, doubting his own words even before they come out. ‘Do I know you, sir?’

Claude is good at keeping emotions at bay, but his eyes get watery almost instantly, and there’s a tight knot in his throat. ‘...Maybe. I’m sorry, in any case.’

‘Why are you sorry?’

‘Nothing, nothing. Dumb grown up things… You’ll understand when you’re older.’ Claude swallows down the tears, and breaks the hug, his hands on Esen’s shoulders. ‘Do you want to help me to feed he wyverns?’

‘C-Can I?!’

‘Of course,’ Claude winks. ‘And if you want to keep Altenna, you’ll have to learn how to take care of her.’

* * *

There are many things on his mind as he walks back to his chambers, but Claude’s words reign over all of them, as if they were prophetic. Maybe he’s thinking this nonsense because he’s tired - and it’s only the first day of these festivities - but he really can’t get the encounter with Claude out of his mind.

There is no point of no return except death, huh? But maybe he’s wrong. Maybe it’s already too late, and he has become like his father. One of the things he had always wanted to avoid.

Before he can wallow on these thoughts further, though, he hears a small, panicky voice coming from the next corridor he was going to take - the one where Adrien’s room is, he suddenly remembers - followed by the sound of a door suddenly opening. 

‘Help!!!’

That’s Adel’s voice. Felix’s feet move on their own accord towards Adrien’s door, where the young girl is standing, as the guards peek into the room. Felix scowls, and his stomach feels heavy.

‘Adel.’ His voice is loud, serious, and gets the kid’s attention. 

‘S-Sir Felix!’ She looks at him like he’s her saving grace. ‘It’s- It’s Adrien, he-’

‘Your Highness!’

Felix enters the room, and pushes away the guards that have kneeled around Adrien. ‘Go get a healer and tell the king about-’

He stops talking, but the guards obey nonetheless. Under the dim candlelight, he sees Adrien on the floor, breathing heavily, eyes half open. His body contracts in a wet cough, and the carpet, his hair and face are stained with vomit. His golden locks stick to his skin due to cold sweat.

And Felix’s heart stops beating. ‘Adrien. Adrien, what’s wrong?’

The child whines, and Felix strokes his hair, noticing only then how warm his face is. Fever, as well? He doesn’t look like he can get up by himself, so Felix does his best to pick him up from the floor in the most delicate way possible. The puddle of vomit is by the bedside, and only now Felix notices the stench coming from it.

He leaves Adrien on the other side of the bed, tucking him in when he notices the way he’s shaking. His heartbeat rings in his ears. ‘Adrien. Look at me. Don’t fall asleep just yet.’ 

And he obeys, keeping himself awake somehow. Felix gets up, searching for the lamp he was using before, but his son whines again, a small sob that leaves a crack on his heart.

‘Dad-’ Adrien murmurs. ‘D… Don’t go…’

Felix’s eyes are wide open, and his heart beats in his chest like it’s going to break his ribs.

_ Dad _.

With slow movements, Felix goes back to Adrien’s side, leaning down to stroke his hair and hold his hand. ‘I-’ the words come to him awkwardly. Of course Adrien doesn’t know. He’s feverish, confused, probably slightly delirious. He clearly thought Felix was Dimitri. And maybe he’s being selfish by letting a thought like this slip into his mind at a moment like this, but if there’s a chance, any chance that somewhere deep in his mind Adrien has recognized him, he…

‘Dad isn’t going anywhere,’ he says, and his voice breaks around the name, ‘Adrien.’

Felix Hugo Fraldarius cries.


	6. I thought love was a kind of emptiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing was supposed to go with the last chapter, so it's techincally chapter 5.5. Also this is gonna be the only chapter in a while, since I'm going to focus more on zine pieces and college. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Trigger warning for Sylvain's fucked up thoughts and some implied nsfw things.

**Many years in the past**

Rodrigue’s hands rest on the railing as he watches over the courtyard where three people spar. Glenn holds his sword up, preparing his fighting stance while Felix stubbornly gets up again, grabbing his own weapon and wiping the tears away from his pouting face. The prince sits on one side, observing them attentively and seemingly rooting for Felix.

The duke of Fraldarius smiles, and watches Felix try to land a blow on his brother, only to be blocked by him again. However, even Rodrigue notices his technique is better, and that Glenn has to put in some effort, and that alone tugs the sides of his mouth further into a proud smile.

Strong steps on stone distract him from the sparring, however, and he looks up to a familiar face and sky blue eyes. ‘They seem to be having fun.’

‘...They do. What brings you here, my friend?’ 

‘Honestly, I just wanted a moment to rest.’ He leans on the railing as well, just as Felix drags Dimitri to their improvised battlefield. ‘The preparations for the trip have been exhausting.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Rodrigue tries not to, but his worry about this trip to Duscur seeps into his expression anyway. But they’ve had this conversation around three times, so he changes the subject. ‘That reminds me, there was something I wanted to discuss with you.’

‘What is it?’

‘I was considering the idea of an engagement between His Highness and Felix.’

Lambert’s eyebrows arch up, but soon enough there’s a pleased smile in his face again. ‘It doesn’t sound like a bad idea. A union between a Blaiddyd and a Fraldarius… That hasn’t happened before that I know of.’

‘Indeed. And it would be a great symbol of our friendship. And theirs.’

Down in the courtyard, Felix is sobbing, and Dimitri wipes his tears away. ‘I’ll consider it, yes. This idea of yours… We’ll talk about it in depth when I come back from Duscur.’

‘Thank you, my friend.’

* * *

**The present. Gautier territory.**

The prince’s birthday had turned out cold and bitter in the Gautier state, or at least that is what the Margrave’s eyes saw and felt - still feels on his tongue. He takes a sip of his tea, but not even the hot beverage can take away the lingering feeling that he’s, again, running from his problems like a rat.

‘You’ll get older faster if you keep scowling, Sylvain.’

Sylvain usually would hate being told that, but Mercedes’s voice is soft and kind, soothing like a warm breeze. He doubts he could ever be angry at this woman.

‘Sorry, Mercie. I sort of spaced out.’ She giggles, and takes a sip of her own tea. Sylvain observes her, and finally breathes out. ‘Thank you for coming to see me.’

‘You said it was urgent, so… I assumed you needed to vent to a good friend again.’

‘I do.’ 

She leaves the cup of tea on the table, and ever so graceful, puts her hands on her lap, listening intently.

Sylvain hesitates.

‘You’re the only person I can trust with these feelings, Mercie. Please… Don’t tell anyone.’

‘You know I won’t, Sylvain. Your feelings are safe with me.’

He manages a genuine smile. ‘Thank you.’

And then he doesn’t know where to start. He sits on this chair, rubs his temples, opens and closes his mouth, trying to find the words. Mercedes waits.

‘I,’ he finally says, ‘am just like my brother.’ Mercedes frowns, but Sylvain continues before she can interrupt him. ‘Hating people for circumstances beyond their control, for things that aren’t their fault. I don’t… act on it, but the hate is there. And I can’t… I can’t stop it.’

‘...Who is “people”, Sylvain?’ By her voice, she seems to know it already.

‘...The prince. Vadim. Adrien.’

He knows that, in front of anyone else, this confession could mean being put under suspicion of treason or stripped of his title. Probably both. And he feels like he deserves it, anyway. 

'When I look a him, I see… The bond Felix has with His Majesty. Something that pulls them together forever now. It's like… looking at how I lost Felix right in the face.’

‘Oh, Sylvain…’

‘And Felix is,’ he continues, swallowing down tears that have been piling up inside his chest all this time, ‘the only person… The only one I’ve… felt something like this for. Wanting to stay by his side. Wanting… a future with him. When he said he was going to have a kid, I… I had hoped we would raise that kid together, like a damn fool. That maybe that was why he told me instead of Dimitri.’ 

Sylvain scoffs, grinning at his own stupidity. ‘But who would choose me over Dimitri of all people? Not even Felix. And I didn’t do a single thing right after that brat was born. Because all I know to do well is how to hurt people around me to the point they never return. Foolish, right? Thinking anyone would want me at all, aside from that stupid crest. I should rip my chest open and just… offer this damn thing to whoever wants to take it.’

‘Sylvain, this isn’t helping.’

He stops abruptly, looking up at the woman in front of him. Her eyes aren’t looking at him with pity, but with sadness and sincere worry. Perhaps with some anger. 

‘What isn’t?’

‘You talking about yourself like this.’ 

Sylvain looks away. ‘...It’s the only way I know of… how to think about myself. And the truth.’

‘No, Sylvain… I can assure you it’s not the truth. Or do you think I’m here because I’m interested on your crest?’ She raises a hand, before Sylvain can even crack one of his badly timed jokes used for self-defence and deflection. ‘I’m not.’

‘You’re not.’

‘I’m your friend, Sylvain. And… You always knew Felix had feelings for Dimitri, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. I knew.’ Sylvain shifts on his chair, uncomfortable. So, naturally, he reverts to his usual smile. ‘Thinking about it, he was using me to avoid thinking of His Majesty, just like everyone else does.’

‘Just like you tried using him as well.’

‘Woah there.’ He feels like he’s just been punched in the gut. But it’s true. He had had no contemplations for Felix’s health when he… ‘Sometimes, really weird… bad things crossed my mind, Mercie. Things only a bad person thinks.’

‘Such as?’

‘I wanted to- I wanted to tie him up...’ Sylvain’s nails hurt on the palm of his hands. ‘Because I was… terrified that he’d slip away in my sleep. Like everyone else would. Sometimes he’d say Dimitri’s name instead of mine, and I’d hurt him on purpose for that.’ He breathes out, burying his face in his hands. ‘And that happened… How long ago? Seven years. It still haunts me. I hurt him  _ on purpose _ ? Because I was jealous? What the fuck is wrong with me…’

Mercedes gets up, and Sylvain watches her, expecting to be slapped or yelled at. He wouldn’t blame her. He’s nothing but a trainwreck, and deserves more hits than he ever got. Doesn’t he?

But she doesn’t. Instead, she puts her chair by Sylvain’s side, and sighs, placing her gentle hands over his. 

‘The fact that you know it was wrong,’ she says, voice soft but clear enough for Sylvain to hear, ‘already disqualifies you from being the worst, Sylvain.’

Something in his chest starts creeping up his throat, blocking it.

‘But-’

‘Whatever feelings you had for Felix, and whatever you’re projecting onto His Highness… You know they’re bad, and you will overcome them eventually, Sylvain.’

‘I- I can’t-’

‘It’s hard, but I believe in you. I know there is a good person in you.’

His eyes burn, and Sylvain finally understands that these are tears. He tries desperately to pull them down, back where they’ve been for the last two decades, but for some reason they won’t.

‘Mercie…’

Her hand cups Sylvain’s cheek. ‘It’s fine. Crying is good, Sylvain. Nobody will laugh at you, and nobody will hurt you for it either. So let’s get this out of your system, alright?’

That does it, and after the pitiful relief the first tear brings, a thousand more follow. 

* * *

Later that day, news arrive at Gautier that His Highness Vadim Adrien Blaiddyd has fallen ill, and Sylvain feels many things.

Guilt, even if he didn’t do anything, and fear for Felix's mental state.

(And there’s also a small, dark satisfaction that Sylvain buries deep inside him, where his thoughts can’t reach.)

* * *

The tea burns in Felix’s throat, and it might be enough to keep him awake for just a little more. His eyes drift around the room, but always return to Adrien, who is little more than a small bunch of messy blonde hair and a tiny nose sticking out from his blankets.

He’s so small. He’s never been this small since Felix first held him in his arms, ten years ago. His breathing is too heavy for someone this size, his feverish nightmares too terrifying. 

As he promised, he doesn’t move from this chair by Adrien’s side, he doesn’t fall asleep, except whenever Dimitri himself substitutes him. He doesn’t trust anyone else to be alone with the kid, and neither does Dimitri, with the exception of Dedue. But Felix doesn’t even trust him. No servant stays in this room alone with the child, no matter what.

Adrien could’ve been poisoned. It could be just a illness. And that is frustrating, not knowing what exactly has caused this to his son. It makes him angry, because there might be someone out there trying to harm someone he loves, and he can’t do anything about it, again.

Claude had been one of the clear suspects for him, as Felix remembered his hobby of crafting poisons, but what could he have gained from killing Adrien and causing a war against Fódlan? No, that didn’t add up at all with his attitude. And he had always been with Lorenz and their twins, when not with Dimitri. Except for the night he fed the wyverns on his own, but someone saw him carrying the meat bucket to the stables, and one of the twins gave him an alibi.

He himself had been a suspect. It was humiliating - thinking he could ever harm Adrien on purpose - but he let them investigate, even when Dimitri said he didn’t have to. He has nothing to hide, besides Adrien’s parentage, and not volunteering would only be more suspicious. 

So, what now? If it truly is an illness, it’s just bad luck, which lines up with Felix’s track record in life. If it was some kind of crafted poison, who would benefit from killing the prince?

Felix squints, because there is someone. But the very idea of that would make Dimitri grimace.

Adrien whines softly, shifting under the blankets and interrupting his grim thoughts.

‘Adrien?’ he murmurs, rushing to sit by his side on the bed. ‘Are you awake?’

‘Hhnn…’ He’s more half awake than anything, and Felix strokes his hair.

* * *

_ I wake up many times. _

_ It’s more peaceful than the nightmares I keep having, but it still feels like a dream. _

_ There's a voice calling me. _

'Adrien.' 

_ The voice's hands are cold, but feel warm. They caress my face and hair and wipe the sweat away. _

_ I can't remember who has cold hands that feel warm, but I know they're nice. _

_ I don't remember who called me by that name, but it feels soft. _

_ Sometimes the hands pick me up and give me food. It always tastes horrible. _

_ But they tell me to keep trying, and it sounds like the voice is going to cry. _

_ One time, the voice sings me a lullaby, that makes me feel warmer than the soup. I know this lullaby, even if dad has never sung it to me. _

_ How can I know something I’ve never heard before? _

_ It feels so safe. _

* * *

It’s been a long day, or rather, it’s been a really long week. His eyes hurt, begging for some hours of sleep, but he has to check on Adrien and Felix first, and so he drags his feet on the carpeted floor, followed by Dedue. If he collapses, at least his friend will be there to carry him.

He arrives at Adrien’s door, and puts his hand on the doorknob, when he hears something from the inside of the room. A sudden panic takes over him, but only for a second before he realizes what it really is.

A lullaby. Felix’s voice. Felix is singing a lullaby for Adrien.

He sticks his ear to the door, under Dedue’s confused gaze, and stays there for a while, listening to it, moving his lips to silently make the words of the song. The lullaby that always has been Felix’s to finish since that night in the Fraldarius dukedom.

Felix isn’t good at singing, not at all. He’s horrible at it. But that just makes this attempt even more endearing, putting a tired smile on Dimitri’s face despite all the horrible things that have been going on. All the suspicion, all the fear, all the grief disappear while Felix clumsily sings this song about the chivalry and adventures he hates so much, that Glenn and Rodrigue sang to him once.

Then the melody ends, and there are one, two seconds of blissful silence before Dimitri twists the doorknob and walks in after gesturing to Dedue that he can leave if he wishes to. Felix stares in his direction, his hand still in Adrien’s hair. His eyes have deep, dark bags under them, and he looks like he might fall apart at any moment.

In that sense, they’re the same. Dimitri walks towards him, leaning down to kiss him, and grazing his cheek with his own knuckles. 

‘How is he?’

‘...No improvement. He’s… the exact same.’ Felix sighs, shoulders dropping. 

‘Sometimes these things take time.’

‘Yes,’ Felix concedes, without much energy. ‘Sometimes they do.’

‘He’ll be fine.’

‘He will be fine.’ 

Because neither of them knows what will become of them if he doesn’t make it. The thought falls over them, and Dimitri inhales, sitting on the chair previously occupied by Felix. ‘...That was a sweet lullaby.’

Felix groans. ‘How much did you hear.’

‘Towards the end.’

Felix huffs. Silence again, broken again by Dimitri.

‘You love him.’

‘I do.’

The answer surprises Dimitri, who had expected Felix to scoff. He can’t see Felix’s face at the moment, but he wishes he could. Felix’s fingers play with Adrien’s hair, and his position shifts on the bed, facing him this time. He looks so tired.

Dimitri extends a hand towards Felix, who takes it, and their fingers curl together. Dimitri wants to think this gesture means more than it seems, that it is more than just Felix indulging him. But he’ll stick with it, and try to stop daydreaming.

The touch is broken by Felix, who stretches his back and lies down on the bed, by Adrien’s side. Dimitri grins. ‘Are you alright?’

‘My back hurts. That chair is uncomfortable.’ Felix turns to face Adrien, his back to the king. ‘I’ll stay here for a while.’

Dimitri hums. ‘Claude suggested… a theory.’

‘Hm?’

‘Remember those people we fought in Shambala?’

Felix frowns. ‘...Do you think it might have been them? Didn’t we kill them all?’

‘There might be some left. He said it was unlikely, since none of those people can really survive on their own.’

Felix strokes Adrien’s hair absentmindedly. ‘I don’t think it’s that complicated.’

Dimitri waits for an explanation, but it never comes. Instead, Felix’s body seems to deflate, finally collapsing under exhaustion. So he doesn’t ask further, letting him fall asleep, and leaving a kiss on both his and Adrien’s hair before sitting back on the chair. 

He’ll watch over his family in the meantime.

* * *

When Felix wakes up, he notices some things.

Adrien hasn't had nightmares. 

Dimitri covered him with a blanket.

And when he extends his hand to touch Adrien, a realization hits him.

His skin is warm, but it isn't burning like before. The child seems so sleep somewhat peacefully, instead of exhaling pained whines and heavy breaths from before. It feels like Felix's heart is beating again.

The fever has gone down.

* * *

After two weeks of agony, Adrien starts recovering. His fever lowers, and with that the hallucinations go away. Some nightmares stay, and they keep Felix wary of a relapse. He can, however, sleep marginally better now, and so does Dimitri. Who also convinces him to stay by Adrien’s side by holding his hand and using that puppy like gaze he has mastered further over the past years.

‘Please… He needs you. We both do. At least… Until he recovers… Stay by him. You’re one of the few people I trust enough for this.’

And for some reason, Felix gives in. Maybe it’s the voiced acknowledgement that he loves their son, or the relief of seeing Adrien improve, but it feels strange to be around Dimitri. In an oddly good way. It’s easier to kiss him back, to be touched by him, like the situation has pulled them closer than they’ve ever been since they were fifteen.

It feels good, and Felix doesn’t know what to make of it.

Mercedes arrives not so long after Adrien’s health improves, apparently traveling from Gautier territory. Felix frowns, and so does Dimitri.

‘Sylvain didn’t show up at the birthday,’ Felix points out, crossing arms and legs and leaning on the chair. 

‘He wasn’t feeling well, healthwise,’ she says, and Felix lowkey doubts her - but if that’s Sylvain’s excuse, he’ll just take it. ‘I went to visit him because of that. He’s way better now.’

His fingers drum on the tea table. ‘...Adrien might have been poisoned.’

Her reaction is just what he’d have expected: her eyes go wide, mouth agape and covered with a hand. ‘But who would want to poison him?’

‘We have some theories, but no proof of anything. Hopefully, when Adrien gets better… He’ll remember something.’

‘Hopefully…’

‘And since Sylvain was one of the few guests that didn’t actually come, we considered him as well. But… We’ll trust your word, I guess.’

‘If my opinion matters at all…’ The soft smile is back on her face, and Felix feels like a child in front of her motherly presence. ‘I can assure you, it wasn’t Sylvain.’

‘If you say so.’ Felix’s suspicion won’t disappear that easily, but he lets the subject go for now. It seems unlikely of Mercedes to be involved in some plot to kill Adrien anyway.

‘Still, it is indeed a terrible experience… I’m used to sick children, but it always breaks my heart so see the poor things suffering.’ She looks truly miserable as she gazes down at her teacup. ‘They’re the ones that least deserve it.’

Felix doesn’t have much to say to that, so he just takes a sip of his own tea. However, one thought does come to mind, and he purses his lips. Mercedes is someone he can trust, but…

‘Mercedes.’ 

‘Yes?’

‘How does it feel… Nevermind.’

She tilts her head. ‘What is it? It sounded important.’

‘It’s just...’ Felix tries to not stumble on his words. ‘What if there is a thing you’re scared of doing?’ That was terribly worded, and Felix knows it, so he tries again. ‘A step you could take, and maybe you should take, but it’s terrifying.’

‘Well, you can always take the middle step and stay there for a while. If it’s too much for you, you can back down and prepare yourself better. Or not do it at all.’

‘What if there’s no middle step?’

‘I’d argue you that there’s always something in the middle you can do to get closer. May I know the details? That way I could help a little more.’

‘...No. It’s… fine.’

The gears in Felix’s mind are turning. A middle step. What kind of middle step there could be in a situation like the one he’s in?

‘Oh, by the way!’

Felix would never imagine that Mercedes’ voice, of all voices in the world, could startle him, but it does. ‘What.’

‘When little Adrien feels better, you could take him to see the sea. And it also does wonders for one’s health, I’ve heard… I bet you two aren’t in top shape either after all that has happened.’

‘The sea is too cold still.’

‘It doesn’t have to be the sea right next to Fhirdiad… Maybe a little past Galatea territory? The water should be warmer over there. And it’s not so far away… Oh, I’ll suggest it to His Majesty!’

Felix sighs, too tired to fight against Mercedes’ excitement.

* * *

And, as expected, Dimitri is convinced by Mercedes’ suggestion rather quickly. Felix suspects it might be also the boar’s own exhaustion weighing on him. Still, he himself thinks about the idea for a while too, even when Adrien still is barely able to sit up on his own. 

It’s strange, seeing him weak, pale and devoid of energy like this, but at the very least his piglet still smiles sweetly whenever Felix ruffles his hair. He pouts and fights a little when it’s time for medicine or soup, wanting to eat meat instead, and Dimitri giggles whenever he sees it.

‘He’s just like you. Such a stubborn child…’

‘The soup is made of meat. So what’s his damn problem? That you coddle him too much.’

‘Maybe so. But you do such a good job at filling in for my mistakes, love.’

Felix grunts. He hates Dimitri’s amused smile.

It suddenly shifts into a serious expression, however. 'Do you think the trip is a good idea?'

Felix frowns at the change of tone. 'Why are you seeking  _ my _ advice?' 

'It's good advice.' Dimitri shrugs, and suddenly he looks ten years older.

Felix wouldn't be so sure about what Dimitri just said, though. He looks at the sleepy child on the bed, and tries to think coldly about it. 

You'd think by now he'd be better at being impartial about this brat.

'...I think it would be good for his health. if that's what you're asking. It could also… drive you two away from whoever tried to hurt him, if it was intentional. If you plan the security properly, there should be no downsides.'

'Would you come with us?'

'Why?'

'Well, because… I trust you with my life and his. Because you're one of the strongest and smartest people in all of Faerghus. But also-' he stops, and holds Felix's hands in his. '...Also because I want you to spend more time with him, if possible. If that's what you want, as well.'

And so he can live the fantasy of being married and having a proper family, Felix thinks bitterly.

He sighs. 'I'll go. Because I don't trust you protecting yourself.'

* * *

The mansion is small, by mansion standards, but it’ll be enough for just six people and some servants and knights. It’s painted in dark blue, and Adel gasps when she sees it in the distance while Adrien’s only reaction is to whine and curl up against Felix, under Dimitri’s softened gaze. 

‘Tired of traveling, piglet?’

‘Uh-huh…’ He nods.

‘Take a nap, then. I’ll carry you inside.’

Adrien nods again, and, to Felix’s surprise, decides to lay his head on his lap. His hand hesitates, wanting to brush him away, but it ends up on his hair instead. He knows Dimitri is smiling at this, but he won’t look at him now.

‘Have you ever seen the sea, Adel?’ Dimitri whispers, as the child sits by his side. 

‘No!’ she answers. ‘I’ve heard it’s so big it looks like it never ends…’

‘Well, it must end somewhere. Like most things.’ Dimitri comments, kind and warm as ever. ‘Isn’t that right, Felix?’

‘I guess,’ he replies without paying much attention to the conversation. Dimitri and Adel keep talking, while most of Felix’s focus shifts between Adrien’s sleeping face and the landscape outside of the carriage. 

It takes barely ten more minutes for them to arrive and when the carriage stops, Ingrid is there to open the door for them. Adel hops off the carriage first, followed by Dimitri, and last comes Felix carrying the sleepy prince, who is just awake enough to actively cling to his neck.

Spoiled little piglet, Felix thinks, fighting a smile. He’s making this exception solely because he’s been sick, and it makes sense he’d be exhausted after such a trip.

Also, hearing his breath calms Felix down.

Ingrid walks by his side, dragging her pegasus with her by its reins and grinning in a way that gets on Felix’s nerves instantly.

‘What?’

Ingrid blinks, taking a while to realize he’s talking to her. ‘Oh? Nothing. I was thinking about… You know.’

‘I don’t,’ he says, trying to stop her, but she continues.

‘You really look like a caring father right now, Felix.’ 

His face is suddenly burning with embarrassment, and he looks away from her and her soft eyes. ‘I’m just carrying a brat.’

‘But you didn’t have to. Dimitri would’ve done it…’

‘I didn’t think about that. Shut up. He's a brute, anyway. And don’t speak so loudly.’

‘Sorry, sorry.’ She laughs softly. ‘Wouldn’t want to wake your little prince up.’

‘On the Goddess, if you don’t shut it…’ 

But the threat is never completed, as they enter the house. It has been cleaned as Dimitri had ordered, and Adrien’s room is right by Dimitri’s as requested. After leaving Adrien on his bed to continue his nap, Felix pays attention to the locks on the doors and windows, and finds Dedue is doing the same.

They seem to agree this place looks safe enough.

However, when night comes, Felix isn’t able to sleep even if he wants to. He stays up, listening, observing, but nothing happens.

Others would tell him they don't even know if someone actually tried to murder Adrien, or Dimitri. He was told many times it could've been simply an ailment, like the plague more than thirty years ago. But the worry is eating him from the inside nonetheless.

Dedue is in charge of cooking, so there shouldn't be any chances of poisoning. They have guards. It should be fine. It should, but…

He gets up from his bed, and grabs his sword on instinct. He walks out of the room, and one of the knights of Faerghus stands by it. She doesn't seem startled by Felix suddenly leaving the room, however.

'You're dismissed,' he says, and the knight just frowns, wondering where the hell it says she should obey orders that don't come from the king himself or her superior. Felix scoffs at the thought of Ingrid training someone stubborn like that. What a mess.

The guard posted on Dimitri's room is easier. He seemingly got the memo of letting him enter the king's chambers whenever he pleases.

Despite the rumours such a thing creates, Felix is thankful for it right now: he isn't in the mood for arguing, and he might just end up stabbing someone if he has to.

He finds Dimitri in front of his desk, as expected, bending over a piece of paper and holding a quill in his hand. A silver lance rests against the wall, close to him. 'I told you to not bring work here.'

'It's not work. Technically,’ he corrects himself, pulling some hair behind his own ear. 'It's a letter. To Claude.'

Felix frowns. 'Claude?'

'Yes. I wanted to thank him for his help during the investigation of… what happened to Adrien.'

Felix looks over Dimitri's shoulder. There isn't much written on the paper just yet.

'...I also wished to encourage him.'

'To do what?'

'To make his relationship to Lorenz, and his parentage of the twins, public. Not now, of course. I bet he will do it when he sees fit. But I want to reassure him I'm supporting them.' Dimitri smiles. 'Though I'm not the best at… this sort of thing.'

Felix frowns, his mind going back ten years, to the time when Dimitri proposed to him. Thinking about it, about the person he was back then, is strange. Not so much has changed, but… It feels like a lot has.

The ring is still in the Fraldarius state, tucked away safely in his nightstand. Felix has memories of putting it on once and wanting to cry, and then of someone gently sliding it out of his finger. He doesn't know if it was a drunken haze or a nightmare, but he remembers a cold feeling around his ring finger and a knot in his throat.

Maybe it was real. Maybe Sylvain was the one to take the ring away, or maybe it was Felix himself. But Felix isn't gentle to himself.

'Go to sleep. There will be plenty of time for you to write that letter, boar.'

The boar sighs, and gets up from the chair slowly, like every single one of his bones hurts. Felix suddenly remembers how towering, how intimidating he looked when they met again after five years of fruitless searching, and how much he had wanted to punch him.

That is so far away now, though. Dimitri's expression is exhausted, but kind. And this is the face Felix can't stand looking at for too long.

Dimitri's hand is on his cheek, cupping it, and his fingers are in his hair. Felix's face leans to the touch, and that makes the boar happy. 'Let's try to sleep a little, love.'

Felix answers by nodding softly, and backing down to reach the bed. It's a dance he knows well already, from many nights slept with Dimitri, and soon enough the king's arms are embracing him tightly.

'Good night, my love.'

'Good night.'

And then, silence. Not the silence that leads to them falling asleep, but a tense one. And so they both wait.

'What is it?' Felix finally asks.

'...I wondered.' Dimitri places his hand over Felix's, stroking it. 'And you don't have to answer this, but… What happened during those three years, Felix? After Adrien was born…'

Felix doesn't want to answer, but his mind searches anyway: There are blurred images, vague words, bitter tastes. Very few clear memories, drowned in his alcohol and his own emotional numbness. 

He knows what he was doing, but doesn't remember anything.

'I don't know.'

Dimitri's lips kiss his head. Warm, understanding.

'That's alright,' he whispers. 'I know how it is. To forget.'

Felix had wasted three years of his life. Dimitri had wasted five. 

Felix sighs, and turns around to face him. 'Let's go to sleep. For real, this time.'

That night, he dreams of open wounds and a younger Sylvain.

* * *

Felix wakes up to lips gently grazing the back of his neck, a most familiar feeling that clashes with the unfamiliar room they're in. It takes him a while to process what has happened and where they are, but the kisses, the warm embrace around him and the gentle, sleep-rough voice tell him this place is safe before he even questions it.

'Good morning, my beloved.'

He groans, turning to look at Dimitri instead. The man is smiling - of course he is - and he leans forward to give Felix the usual morning kiss. 

This one kiss is followed by several other ones, covering his lover's face, much to Felix's embarrassment. 

'Goddess,' he whines, weakly trying to pull him away. 'You're always so… clingy…'

'But whenever I don't do it you get so worried…'

'Shut the fuck up, will you.'

'No,' Dimitri teases, leaving a kiss on Felix's forehead after a short laugh. 

'This is what I get for asking nicely.' 

Dimitri laughs again, a sound so clear and genuine it catches Felix off guard. As if he hasn't heard or seen something like this in centuries.

There's something in his chest that he doesn't remember feeling ever since he was fifteen as that laugh reverberates in the air, and Dimitri rolls on the bed to hover over him.

'I love you, Felix.' 

Those words come out of his mouth so often, anyone would think Felix would be used to them. Or that he'd be able to answer him back.

Dimitri waits, and waits and keeps waiting and finally gives up to kiss him, running his hand down Felix's side and settling for his hip. It gives him goosebumps, even over the gown.

'Mph. Go on, you are nowhere near subtle with your intentions.'

At least, Dimitri has the decency to look sheepish. 'If you do not wish to, you know I…'

'I didn't say I don't want to. Stop putting words in my mouth that I didn't say.'

Somewhere, Sylvain is probably making a comment about having better things on his mouth, but Felix ignores the thought, in favor of focusing on Dimitri's lips, and his hand exploring the back of his gown. He feels the fingers unbutton it painfully slowly, the fabric falling from his shoulders, and Dimitri's rough hands stroking Felix's scarred skin, tracing his spine-

'Dad!!' Adrien pushes the door open, and Felix instinctively hides behind Dimitri's body, like he was just caught in an illegal affair. But it's too late. 'Good morning, Felix!'

'G-Good morning, Adrien.' Dimitri is the one who replies, as the kid climbs the bed and sits at the end of it. 'Why are you up so early?'

'Ingrid told me she'd take me and Adel to the beach! Will you come with us?' His eyes observe Felix curiously, probably wondering why he's there.

'Ah, we… we'll catch up to you later, Adrien. Felix and I are… discussing something important.'

'Like what?'

'Like… grown up things. Like the last report on agriculture from Duscur! Yes. That. And it's going to take a while.'

'Awh… Alright.' 

Felix's muscles don't relax even a little until Adrien has left the room and one whole minute has passed. He then drops on the pillow, covering his face with his hands.

'To be fair,' Dimitri murmurs. 'He didn't ask further,  _ and _ he didn't come in later.'

'Shut the fuck up. I'll kill you.'

'I'm sorry.'

'And then myself.' He drags his hands down his face, sighing. 'Why didn't you lock the fucking door?'

'Because you were going to come and sleep with me. I didn't think it polite-'

'One day you'll fucking care for your fucking safety over  _ politeness _ .'

'Sorry. I'll lock it next time.'

'No, I will because you're obviously too busy thinking about boning me.'

'Felix!'

* * *

Adrien has seen the sea before, the one that is close to Fihirdiad, in the few excursions he's been allowed to make out of the city. It's a cold sea, and he hadn't been allowed to bathe there, not a single time. 

But this one was different, and Adel had explained it to him: the Valley of Torment is close, and that added with the fact that they were to the south of the Kingdom, makes these waters warmer.

There is just one problem, though.

'Do you know how to swim, Ingrid?'

'I'm afraid I do not, Your Highness,’ she replies, with an apologetic smile. 'I am, however, pretty sure Felix does, and Dedue as well. If you want to be taught, I bet they'd be great instructors.''

'Oh…'

Adel is already in the water, covered to her knees. Ingrid has told them they can't go any further, and his friend is smart enough to know the risks of the sea.

'Why the sad face, Your Highness?'

'I'm not sad… It's just weird that dad can't swim.'

She sits by his side on the sand. 'Why?'

'Because… I feel like my father can do anything,’ he says, pouting. 'When I was sick… He was always by my side. He spent whole nights looking after me and still worked on kingly things… I can't even stay awake after midnight.'

'Your father is an adult, Your Highness. You will get stronger and more resilient as you grow up. And besides that…' She puts a hand on Adrien's shoulder. 'He also loves you immensely. You're the most precious thing to him.'

His face flushes a little, and he hugs his legs, burying his face on his knees. 'I love him a lot too. And Felix, and Dedue, and Adel, and you… But I love dad the most.'

'That's fair. He's a really good dad.'

'Hey, Ingrid.'

'Yes?'

The prince squints, and Ingrid has an incredibly bad feeling about whatever he's going to say.

'Are you my mom?'

Two seconds pass, before Ingrid bursts into laughter and he pouts.

'D-Don't laugh at me!'

She tries to stop, even if the mere idea sounds so hilariously ridiculous to her. 'I-I'm- I'm very sorry, Your Highness, I just- Where- Where did you get that idea?'

'I just wanted to try it out…' he whines. 'And, I don't know… You're a close friend of my dad. So…'

Ingrid inhales, trying to get her breathing back to normal. 'I'm sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness, but... I'm not. And you shouldn't just ask that out of nowhere.'

'I know…' His cheeks puff up, and Ingrid tries not to giggle any more. 

She wishes she could tell him that his other parent is closer than he thinks, and is way more obvious. 

* * *

The wind that blows at night in this place is definitely warmer than in Fhirdiad, but Dedue has still made sure Adel and Adrien are both inside the house that chilly night and don't get sick.

Dimitri and Felix, however, stand outside, and Felix watches the sun setting and the waves washing over the sand, again and again. Dimitri only looks at Felix, deeming the sunset unworthy of his attention when its orange light is over his lover's features.

For what he has dragged him out here after dinner, with that serious face of his, Felix doesn't know. But his stomach feels weird when Dimitri lets go of his hand, and they're standing in front of each other.

'So, tell me.'

'...I have… something really important to tell you, Felix.'

'You said that already, yes.'

Dimitri sighs, and walks a step closer to Felix. 'I… want you to look at me while I say it. I know how hard making eye contact is for you but- Indulge me, just this once.'

Felix huffs, but complies, looking up at his king's face. 'I am looking. Continue.'

'... I'll keep it short.' He will try, mostly for his own sanity. 'I think- After the events that have happened lately that… we all want the same.'

'Is that so?'

'A part of me still doubted you even… loved our son, Felix. Despite the obvious. And I apologize for harboring such doubts. But this… This has made it clear to me that you do. You love him and you want to be by his side, do you not?'

Felix, despite what was said earlier, looks away. '...You said you'd keep it short.'

'Stay,’ he says abruptly, and holds Felix's hand, wrapping it with his own two. '...Marry me. Let us be… a family.'

_ The family we were meant to be from the start. _

'You don't have to answer me now. You can… take as much time as you want, my dear.' 

But that is exactly the problem. The time. It's too late, no matter what Claude says. It's too late to reveal himself as this kid's father and not expect him to hate Felix for it. He won't be happy, knowing his father abandoned him because he couldn't put himself together well enough.

His Adrien doesn't deserve this. 

But maybe he can try the middle step. He can stay there. And maybe then avoid adding regrets to the long list that haunts him no matter where he goes.

'Dimitri.'

The man's eyebrows arch up, giving Felix's voice all of his attention. 'Yes?'

'I… I can't marry you.' Dimitri's grip on his hand tightens, as does his jaw. Even if he probably expected it.

'Alright.'

'However,' Felix interrupts. 'I… I can be your advisor, and thus stay at Adrien's… and your side. Would that be enough?'

The seconds between them are nearly audible, until a small smile forms on Dimitri's face. '...Yes, love. It is enough.'


	7. My dearly beloved, be strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for slightly graphic depictions of illness and parental abuse y'all. also yvette is not my oc but abb's (@/kirszche on twitter).

He tosses in the first bunch of dirt after what seems like hours of contemplation. The day is sunny, inexplicably warm for the north of Faerghus, and he'd almost prefer rain. Because he can't bring himself to be truly sad. The emotion inside him resembles numbness, a big emptiness that he can't possibly patch up, and maybe he’s a bad son and person for it.

He sighs and raises the shovel again, picking up more of the soil he has dug up before. It's long, arduous work, and he doesn't have all day so he keeps at it, unable to force himself to stop. More dirt, more and more until his mother's pale face is invisible. More until the hole in the ground is too deep for even the dogs to dig up her bones, maybe.

An old cleric from the village stares, and he pays no mind. If she's there to mock his mother or him, he doesn't care. If she's just watching the morbid scene of a son burying his own mother on his own to tell the rest of the village in an overly dramatic fashion, it doesn't matter either. She can feast on it.

He'll be leaving, as he promised her, so the people can think whatever they want. It's what they always have done anyway.

The cleric suddenly gets closer, and hands him a small flask. Cedric looks at it like it's poisoned. 'It's just some water, son.'

'I'm fine,' he says rather harshly, but he still finds it in him to remember his mother's politeness. 'Thank you.'

'If you say so. You're going to collapse if you don't take a break.'

As if any of you care about that, Cedric thinks. But he doesn't say it, opting for the easier, more polite way: ignoring that lady deliberately, focusing on his mother and her solitary grave.

It's sunset when he finally taps the earth, giving the grave it's last touches, and takes a few flowers out of his bag. He undoes his ponytail, ties the flowers up with the bow, and leaves them under the cross that guards his mother, her name engraved on it.

He lies on the ground, exhausted, and closes his eyes as if ready to die with her. But Cedric made a promise, so he opens them again, sitting up as the wind cools down the air around him.

It's hard to remember he has a future, but he does. 

'Sleep well, Ma. I'll be fine.'

He gets up, picking up the bag full of what remains of his possessions, and gives the grave one last glance before turning around and heading north.

* * *

The light of the lamp hurts Dimitri's eyes, and he covers his mouth when a yawn becomes inevitable. A familiar hand squeezes his shoulder, and Dimitri sighs. 

Felix bends forward, and Dimitri leans on the chair, observing him as his advisor analyzes the objects on his desk. He'd much rather trace his neck with his eyes, his pale skin accented orange and gold by the candle, and the brown line of a cord from where an engagement ring hangs. 

He's wearing it, and the sight alone makes him smile giddily. 

Felix sighs. 'I wasn't expecting you to do that.'

'I think it's only appropriate.' He lets Felix pick the papers on his desk and read them. 'I've been trying to come up with the proper words to say it, but…' 

'You overthink too much.' A common criticism from him, said with more exhaustion than malice. 'Keep it simpler than this. Aside from that… I think it's a good decision on your part.'

Dimitri puts his hands on the armrests of his chair, and gets up slowly, feeling stings of pain crawl through his body. His face scrunches up, and Felix's hands are immediately on him, a soothing warmth seeping through the blouse to his skin.

'...Pain, again?'

'Yes, but… It's f-'

'It's not _ fine _. You should stop overworking yourself. I've told you a million times and you still won't listen.'

'I-I'm sorry, love…' Dimitri tries to smile, but he only manages a strange grimace. With a heavy sigh, Felix walks him to the bed, where Dimitri practically collapses, immediately positioning himself in the most comfortable way. 'Felix…'

'Where?' 

'Left shoulder, mostly…' Felix's fingers unbutton the blouse with the speed of a habit, revealing a scarred chest and the faded shape of an old dagger wound. 

Felix swallows, and blinks away the memories of it.. 'Here?'

'Around there. Yes.'

Felix's fingers gleam green as they press Dimitri's skin, and the king sighs in relief. 

'Closer.' His voice is barely a murmur, and Felix complies, putting their foreheads together, letting Dimitri's fingers drown into his hair.

'I love you.'

Felix's heart beats faster, like it does every single time.

'You should rest,' he replies sternly. 'Instead of making me become your personal medic.'

'I would like that…'

'I wouldn’t. I'm not even good at taking care of people.'

'I think I'm good practice, then…'

'You're exhausting,' Felix groans, leaning into the touch of Dimitri's hand. 'Exhausting practice. And I should get going.'

Despite his words, Dimitri is smiling again. 'Can I get a good night kiss at the very least? My dear…'

He hates how easy it is for his king to break his resolve. '...Fine. One.'

* * *

'Have you ever considered going back to Duscur, Dedue?'

He looks up from his simmering cup of tea, eyes fixed on his king for however many seconds it takes him to answer. 'I may have, on some occasions, contemplated the possibility. But I'm…'

'At my service, I know. However, if you were to want to go back home, I… wouldn't be against it. In fact, I would encourage it.'

Silence. Dedue's eyes go back to his tea, and he takes a sip from it. Then, they go to the window of the room, from where the sunlight enters.

'I know you've been following the reconstruction efforts closely.' Dimitri suddenly looks, again, like that young man that would insist Dedue to call him by his name instead of his title. 'And I know I've offered this to you many times before. But I think… I think you deserve this, Dedue.'

Maybe it is. And he does long to see how the rebuilding of Duscur is turning out beyond the words written on paper and numbers. But it never feels like the right moment. It always feels like there is so much left to do in Fhirdiad, protecting the king and prince being the most important of those things.

And Adel… 'Adel… I wonder if that would be good for her.'

'She's a sweet and smart young lady, isn't she? And she adores you. She'd follow her dad to the depths of hell if you asked her.'

Dedue smiles. 'I'd never ask that of her. But… changing her home suddenly, like that…'

'You could ask her,’ he suggests. 'She will always have a place in the palace. Adrien will be fine if she's gone, he's plenty less shy now. And it's not like all contact needs to be cut.' The king's gaze softens instantly at the mention of the young prince. 'But I'm sure she'd definitely rather be by your side.'

Dedue dares to daydream, just a little, with the memories of his own childhood and early adolescence in Duscur. Of Adel growing up in a place like the stories he has told her. The many times Adel has wanted to visit it. 

'However, Your Majesty, your health…'

'I'll be fine. I, well…' Dedue's eyebrows arch up when they notice a slight blush on his king's face, right before he laughs. 'I have my personal medic to talk my ear off about taking breaks.'

Dedue can't help a small, knowing grin from creeping up his face. 'I see. I'm glad to hear that.'

'So, will you at least think about it?'

Dedue nods.

* * *

Colorful beads fall to the floor, rolling all over the room, and Lorenz's eyes follow one in particular. The one that ends up at his father's feet. Between Count Gloucester's fingers there's a ring, on which symbols foreign to Fodlán are carved. There's also an inscription, but few people in the whole country can read it. Thankfully, Lorenz's father isn't one of them.

'Would you like to explain this to me, son?'

Lorenz feels small. He feels stupid. So small and so very stupid. Much like a child.

But at the same time, he's so damn _ tired _.

'It's a ring, father,’ he explains calmly, or as calmly as he can in a situation like this. Count Gloucester's face is so red he might explode. His breath would be worrying, too, if Lorenz's attention wasn’t focused elsewhere. 'Is a piece of jewelry that upsetting to you?'

'This looks like an engagement ring, boy.'

'Does it? I didn't notice.'

'Don't try to play dumb with the man that raised you. What in the blazes does this mean?'

'It doesn't mean anything.' Somehow, Lorenz manages a smile. 'Hilda had it in her collection, and I thought it was beautiful. So I asked her to sell it to me.'

'Then you won't care if I dispose of it, I assume.'

Lorenz’s breath halts, but just as his brain is working out what was the best thing to do, he hears a familiar voice behind him.

‘That’s father’s ring!!’

‘Esen.’ Lorenz turns to his son, who stands at the door, hands turned into shaky fists. Has he been listening to this whole conversation?

‘You can’t take it from him! That’s father’s!’

‘Esen, it’s quite alright…’

‘Is that how you educated your children, Lorenz?’ The contempt in his voice gives Lorenz shivers, even now. Disappointing, he’s calling him. ‘Talking to your grandfather like this. You and this brat keep disgracing the family name.’ 

Esen walks one step forward, but Lorenz stops him with a sharp hand gesture and a tired smile. ‘I know, father. I understand that I have disappointed you immensely these last years. However, I do have an emotional attachment for that ring, so, could you please give it back without any more hassle?’

Count Gloucester and his son look at each other for a while, in tense silence, until the former drops the ring at the latter’s feet. 

‘I thank you, father.’

There’s no reply for him. ‘And you, brat. I’ve told you a million times to stay out of my sight.’

Esen stares back at his grandfather’s eyes, unrelenting in his need to defy him. The count keeps walking, however, ignoring his existence like usual, and Lorenz kneels on the ground, picking up the ring and the beads that made the necklace.

‘Lend me a hand, Esen.’

The kid nods, squatting down to search for the beads. ‘Why did he do that? Breaking the necklace like that…’

‘It’s my fault for not using a tougher thread.’

‘And why are you so nice to him?! He makes you sad all the time!’

‘Lower your voice.’

He obeys, looking down to the few beads that are on his hand. ‘...I just don’t get it.’

‘He’s my father, and I owe him respect. Just like you should respect me.’ 

‘You always say nobles should earn the people’s respect. Why is it any different for a family?’

Something in those green eyes of his takess Lorenz back so many years in an instant that the whole room they’re in feels surreal. ‘Ah, that’s… That is something he would say.’

‘He?’ Esen frowns.

‘Maybe things do need to start changing,’ Lorenz mutters, mostly to himself. ‘Maybe I’ve been doing this wrong all this time… I’m sorry.’

‘Father, what does that mean?’

Lorenz shakes his head. ‘Esen, remember when we all met prince Adrien of Faerghus? That grey castle, and the party...’

Esen whines. ‘...Sorta.’

‘Would you like to study there with your sister for a while?’

* * *

‘A giant cat scratched it out.’

‘That’s a lie!’ Adrien yells, offended. ‘There’s no cat big enough to do that.’

Felix grins, enjoying the exchange between father and son in silence. It’s, if nothing else, better than focusing on the bumps on the road and how sickly they make him feel. 

‘There are enormous cats out there, Adrien. I recommend you don’t underestimate them.’

‘Boh.’ The boy whines, sinking as much as possible in his seat, and suddenly his eyes land on him. ‘Felix! Felix!’

‘What is it now?’

‘You know, right? The way dad lost his eye. You must know! You’re his best friend.’

Felix sighs, grumbling. ‘I don’t, kid. He never told me.’

‘Come on!’ Adrien raises his hands onto the air, making a frustrated expression that looks oddly familiar. Felix hears Dimitri giggling. 

‘You’re getting Felix’s mannerisms.’

‘Oh.’ Adrien blinks in surprise, but doesn’t seem offended by it. Felix himself, however, is hiding his face as much as possible. Especially when Adrien continues. ‘But that’s good.’

‘Is it now, piglet?’

‘Of course it is! You’re like…’ Adrien gestures, making strange noises. ‘The most incredible person after dad. Maybe on par with dad.’

Felix feels his face heat up under that praise, and elbows Dimitri in an attempt to keep him from grinning like the absolute, immense idiot he is. However, the pained whine that comes out of the king isn’t normal, and Felix immediately gives him a worried look. ‘Dimitri.’

‘It’s- It’s alright. It’s just… Ah, my torso hurts a little. But it’s nothing serious enough for you two to worry about.’

Felix frowns. His damn job is to worry about him. But he’ll let it pass, just this once, because Adrien is looking, and the kid looks worried enough for the both of them.

‘Are you sure, dad?’

‘Yes, dear. I’m s-’ Dimitri exhales heavily through his nose, and his head leans against the walls of the carriage. ‘Sure.’

Dimitri is a terrible liar. but he’s good at withstanding pain, so Felix isn’t as surprised as he is angry to realize he’s been hiding it the whole trip. But what is he supposed to do to avoid making Adrien panic? The inside of the carriage falls into silence, except for Dimitri’s ragged breaths and the beating of Felix’s heart in his own ears.

‘...Dimitri?’ His mouth opens, but only a pained whine comes out. ‘Dimitri. Where does it hurt?’ He whines again, apparently unable to talk. It isn’t something Felix hasn’t seen before, but it’s not exactly the same. Pearls of cold sweat fall down the king’s face, scrunched up in pain. ‘Dimitri.’

Felix conjures a heal spell, his fingers glowing with a green-ish light, and puts a hand on Dimitri’s chest. The man instantly sighs in relief. ‘Is it there?’

An even smaller whine, that Felix takes as a yes.

  
  
  


Adrien is thirteen years old when he first realizes his father will die one day. 

He watches him go pale and shake, as his only eye zones out. He watches as Felix orders him to stay still, even if his father seems to be dying in front of him. He watches as Felix himself panics, trying to alleviate the pain that is crossing the kings body.

He watches as everything slowly settles down, and his father breathes more steadily and his jaw relaxes.

'Father?' he asks. It's Felix who looks back at him. 

'Tell the driver to stop. We'll take a detour.'

And Adrien, still shaken, does just that.

* * *

The day had started like most days do. Mercedes and her husband had woken up a little before sunrise, Ashe had prepared everyone's breakfast, then Mercedes had woken up the older children so they'd wake up the youngest. They had eaten together, and then they had left the children play around the orphanage, since it was a sunday morning without lessons. Yvette had gone hunting with Ashe, and she and some children had taken care of their greenhouse together.

She hadn’t expected one of the children to come running to her, yelling something about a pretty carriage. She hadn't expected it to be true.

But Felix is there now, looking back at her with his shaking fists and a clenched jaw and tears in his eyes. 'I need you to help Dimitri. It's urgent.'

Felix's voice leaves no option to hesitate or ask, so she nods and walks back inside to prepare a bed. Dedue carries Dimitri inside, followed by Felix. Adrien is left outside, with Ingrid and Adel's company.

Dimitri groans when left on the bed, and Mercedes strokes his hair like a worried mother. 'What's wrong, Your Majesty?'

'He can't talk properly,' Felix says, walking around the bed to get closer to Mercedes. 'But his body has been hurting intensely, to the point he can't move or talk sometimes. I've told him to stop overworking himself, but… He never fucking listens. And- while we were in the carriage his chest started hurting. I tried to help, but I don't… I'm not good at faith magic.'

Mercedes nods, keeping a serene demeanor despite Felix's anxiety. 'It's alright, Felix. But I'm going to need you to help me out.'

* * *

Adrien is an obedient kid, if nothing else. So when Felix and Dedue tell him to wait outside of the room where his father is, he does that. But he's glued to the door, trying to discern anything that they're saying.

He remembers his father complaining about pain sometimes as of late, but nothing too big. Nothing that could paralyze a massive man like him and leave him whimpering like a child. It doesn't feel right or natural at all. His father has always been, well, invincible.

Or maybe Adrien has just been too stupid, too childish to come to this realization earlier.

The room behind this door is silent except for some steps and Mercedes' professional-sounding voice, and he assumes it means everything is going well. Adrien sighs and gets up, looking around the empty corridor. Adel and Dedue have left him alone as he requested, but maybe he can make himself a little more useful than standing silently by a door. And maybe that way he can distract himself.

Felix told him once that dwelling on things is useless, and Felix's advice is, generally, spot on.

And so he manages to detach himself from the door, and walk away from it in slow steps, stopping and looking behind him every few seconds. The kitchens are close to the row of rooms where his father has been taken in, and so that's the first place he finds himself at.

There's someone in a kitchen. An unnamed girl that has ashen long hair, tied in a braid that circles her head, and has gone messy. Probably due to hunting, judging by the bloody prey attached to her belt.

Adrien gasps. He's never seen a dead bunny before.

'Oh?' She turns around, catching him hiding behind the door frame. The boy blushes.

'I-I'm sorry, I- Didn't want to eavesdrop-'

'It's fine,’ she says, with a smile that reminds him of Mercedes. 'I assume we have guests?'

'...Y-Yes, sort of.' 

'Sort of?' Her eyes widen a little, and their color also reminds him of Mercedes. The thought that she's probably her daughter finally hits him. 'Well, anyway, I hope you are comfortable here. My name's Yvette.'

Yvette. Where has he heard that name before?

'I am… Adrien.' 

Her nose scrunches up, like she's also trying to figure out something.

'Have you… caught those yourself?' Adrien asks, eyes darting down briefly.

She blinks, until she understands what he means, and sports a beaming smile. 'Yes!'

Adrien reciprocates with a grin of his own. 'That's… so amazing. I've never done that.'

She giggles, placing the prey on the cutting board, and grabbing a knife. 'So you've never hunted?'

'I, well, it's… a long stor- EWH!'

Adrien looks away, and Yvette laughs again. 'Haven't you ever seen your parents skin an animal before either?'

'N-No.' He pouts, pressing his eyelids shut. Tightly.

Her continued laugh makes his cheeks burn. 'Tell me about that story while I do this. You don't have to look.'

'A-Alright. So, when I was eleven,' he starts, ignoring the sounds the knife makes on flesh. 'My father took me to a hunting trip. I was very excited because my father and his best friend do enjoy hunting, and I wanted to do it with them… But it didn't go well.'

'What happened?' Her voice sounds sincerely worried, which makes what comes next even more ridiculous and embarrassing.

'They, well, they caught a deer. And I, uh… started crying.' His voice goes softer and softer with each word. 'Because… I didn't want to hurt the deer.'

'Awh… So that was it.'

'I stopped eating meat for a week,' he continues, burying himself in more and more embarrassment. 'Because… I like meat, but I would think again and again about the dead animal part…'

She giggles again, and seems to be done with the first part of her job, because she starts chopping instead. ‘And now you eat meat again?’

‘Yes, but… I guess I appreciate it more now.’

‘That’s good,’ she concedes.

Adrien opens one eye, and then the other, and looks at the back of the girl. Her name was Yvette, wasn’t it? ‘Hey… Uhm. Is there something I can help out with? Something that doesn’t involve blood if possible…’

‘I bet we can find something when I’m done here.’

Adrien smiles, his cheeks slightly red. ‘Alright.’

* * *

When Dimitri finally stirs, the first thing he notices is a warm, smaller hand around his, and a sudden sound right before the small hand vanishes. ‘So you’re awake.’

‘Felix,’ he murmurs, and the man appears within his field of vision, beautiful midnight blue hair framing his face.

‘You’ve been sleeping for a while. Does anything hurt?’

Dimitri blinks, and rolls on the bed to lay on one side. ‘I… don’t think so, no.’ 

Felix sighs in relief, sitting next to Dimitri on the edge of the bed. ‘Honestly… Do you gain some kind of pleasure on worrying m… everyone?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he apologizes, with that kicked puppy face and voice of his that always soften Felix up. His arms slide out of the blanket, his hands searching for Felix’s, finally finding them and taking them to his lips, leaving small kisses on the fingers. This way, he traces the scars on them, especially in the hand Felix uses for spells.

He lets him, for a while.

‘Mercedes said, that, unexpectedly, that this happened probably due to you overworking yourself. So you could try listening to me more often.’ 

‘I know… but there’s… just so much to do, Felix.’

‘I am aware. I’ve been thinking about that.’ Felix pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘But you can’t… go on risking your damn life. Not when Adrien is so young, and… I’m tired of close calls and losing. All the damn time.’

Those last words seem to be uttered to himself rather than Dimitri, but he’s honored that Felix is opening up to him with his worries nonetheless. ‘...I promise, I’ll do better from now on.’

‘That promise is useless if you don’t actually do it.’

‘But I will. Will try, at the very least.’ Dimitri lets go of Felix’s hands, and lies face up again. ‘Could you get closer?’

Felix frowns, but complies, hovering over Dimitri. ‘Like this?’

‘Yes. Like that.’ Dimitri’s hand then touches Felix’s hair, his fingers wrapping themselves in the strands of blue. Felix flinches, but doesn’t pull him away. ‘I never told you how I lost the eye, didn’t I?’

‘Not the actual story, no.’

‘Do you want to hear it?’ Felix replies by placing his hand over Dimitri’s and not looking away.

‘If you want to tell me.’

‘I don’t remember it clearly, anyway.’ Dimitri laughs, but there’s a sadness in that sound that Felix dislikes deeply. ‘I did it myself. It was a horrible day, that one… The ghosts, they… I wanted to stop seeing them, so desperately that I… did that. It hurt so much, I screamed and whined for so long. No one came to the rescue, obviously. Only the ghosts, around me, all the time... Wanting me to go on and on until either me or Edelgard was dead.’ 

_ And I wasn’t there _, Felix thinks, with a sting of pain in his chest.

‘I don’t want to tell Adrien just yet, though… He’s so young. So idealistic. He… He admires me so much. I’d have to explain so many ugly things to him.’

‘He’s thirteen, Dimitri. He might be a kid, but he won’t stay a kid for much longer.’ 

Dimitri’s chest swells with anxiety, and his voice comes out shaky. ‘I-I know. But how? How do I… tell my son that his father is a monster? That I will never atone for all the horrible things I did in the past? How could I break his heart and trust like that?’

‘Keeping him in the dark and waiting for him to find out by Goddess knows what means is even worse. And,’ Felix takes some air in, looking away from Dimitri’s eyes. ‘You told me that day you weren’t only a boar, didn’t you?’

‘...Y-You remember that?’

‘As well as you do.’ He groans. ‘Adrien’s father… The man he admires so much is also you, you stubborn boar.’ 

Just like the horrible, neglectful father Felix is also turned out to be part of him, inseparable of his person.

‘Even if it takes him a while,’ Felix continues, closing his eyes as Dimitri’s thumb rubs his cheek. ‘He will, in the end, accept it. I think.’ Just like he ended up doing. 

And finally, Dimitri smiles. ‘Do you truly think so?’

‘I wouldn’t praise or console you just for the sake of it.’

‘Yes… You’re right. You wouldn’t. Goddess, I adore you so much…’ He tucks Felix’s hair behind his ear, and takes the sight of his face in like a healing spell. ‘May I kiss you, Felix?’

‘Once. Before I go tell Mercedes that you’re awake.’

'That will do.'

* * *

The rain falls outside of the tavern, and Sylvain watches the beverage in his cup stay still, the only quiet present in this space. He’s never liked the quiet, it gives him too much space to think about things that have no meaning anymore. Like Miklan’s death. Or his feelings for Felix. 

Now, however, he just wishes the people around him would stop dancing, stop singing, and give him a moment of peace. Why did he come here in the first place? Because he had nowhere else to go this day, this late. And the weather is always cold in Gautier lands, so the burning alcohol in his throat is welcomed.

He’s never minded the noise. What has changed?

A woman he remembers vaguely walks closer to him, and he can barely muster a small smile, instead of his usual beaming grin. Her face looks distorted, but Sylvain knows it isn’t the alcohol. He’s not lucky enough to get drunk this fast.

‘Let’s dance, sir!’ He hears her voice as if she were two rooms away, like he’s a spectator to his own life. 

What a ridiculously hilarious tragedy it is. ‘Sure.’

The woman holds his free hand, and Sylvain’s eyes fixate on that. Her hands are warm, as the rest of her body probably is. Would it be too hard to make her swoon? There was a time nobody would be “too hard to make swoon”.

Except Felix.

‘Thinking about it,’ he says, that dishonest smile on his face. ‘I’m afraid I’m too tired to dance. You’ll have to excuse me.’

And just like that, she vanishes, and the corners of Sylvain’s mouth drop. He asks for drink after drink, swallowing in hopes that will, somehow, stop the rain. But it doesn’t, and Sylvain’s distance from the world has only widened. 

He leaves a pouch of gold on the counter, and puts on his cloak before walking right into the storm, cold seeping right through his clothes to the core of his bones. The chilling cold that feels just like home. Just like Gautier.

Ever since Mercedes had made him cry, now a few years ago, things have changed. Rumours go around the northern part of the kingdom that Margrave Gautier is tired of chasing women (and men) to satiate his instincts. That he’s matured. That he’s finally grown. That the latter margrave would be proud.

He isn’t mature, he’s tired. He grew up a long time ago. And he doesn’t want to make that man proud.

Not looking where he’s going, he stumbles against another person smaller than him, and who by the voice Sylvain hears complaining, must be a teenager boy. 

‘Fuck. Sorry, kid.’

‘It’s alright.’ Sylvain looks at the face of this kid, darkened by the night and the cloak that covers his head. ‘Are you…’

A thunder crosses the sky, suddenly illuminating the muddy road.

And Miklan is staring back at him. 

He takes a step back, and then another, under this ghost’s watchful grey eyes.

_ Grey? _

‘Sir?’

‘G-Go away,’ Sylvain murmurs, trying to not slip on the mud. ‘I’m not- I’m not going with you yet-’

‘Sir, are you alright?’ The ghost comes closer, and Sylvain leans against a wagon, feeling the bile creep up his esophagus along the alcohol.

‘Get- Get the fuck-’ 

It burns on his tongue, and his whole body shakes and bends painfully, his skin sweating. It's disgusting, and someone - the ghost? - is holding him to prevent him from falling on his own vomit. Tears pile up on the corners of his eyes, as his stomach convulses one more time.

His hands are firm and strong, despite his stature. With the alcohol out of his system, he lets the kid put his arm around his shoulders.

'Where is your home, sir?'

Sylvain babbles something. He can't be Miklan's ghost. This is a short young boy, with grey eyes for his red hair, that is helping out a drunk, pathetic man he just found in the street. This can't be Miklan.

'What…' he finally manages. 'Urgh…'

'My name?' Sylvain nods. 'Cedric.'

It sounds like fiine name in Sylvain's tired head. 

'Syl… vain. Kid.'

The boy's expression changes very slightly, like he knows that name, and then he looks away. 'Now, where is your home, sir?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this has a happy ending. I swear it does.


	8. To want to be someone's someone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a lot of stuff going on and a lotta plot. There's also transphobia in this chapter but it isn't very long.  
Also damn this fic is nearing it's end. I can't believe it.

Sylvain had thought waking up with a horrible headache was the worst thing that could happen after a night drinking, but he was oh so wrong. A kid he only vaguely remembers from a nightmare he had last night haunts his house, bringing him breakfast and insisting that they have to talk about something.

Sylvain doesn’t want to talk about anything. Sylvain wants to sleep. And the kid – Cedric? – lets him, but at the same time he doesn’t. Because when he closes his eyes to try and get some much needed sleep, the kids face comes back to him, as if just to remind him how similar his face is to Miklan’s, the red, fluffy hair on his head. The unfamiliar grey eyes.

All his friends had joked something like this would happen eventually _ . Oh, how many bastard children must you have around Fodlán already, Sylvain? Someday your mistakes will catch up to you, Sylvain. Shut up, Ingrid, _ he thinks, as the pressing pain in his brain starts fading away thanks to the medicine the boy brought earlier.

The headache is completely gone by evening, but he doesn’t want to meet the kid just yet. Ever, if possible. He could just kick him out, but he’s not that much of an asshole, but he also doesn’t make an effort to go speak with him about... Whatever is going on. It’s the kid who comes to him, knocking on his door and asking if he can come in.

‘Ugh. Wait just a minute!’ Sylvain replies, rubbing at his temples and dressing up in something more decent than a stained nightgown. Which ends up being just the first pants he finds and a jacket, honestly. ‘Now. Come in.’

The kid obeys, and walks inside, closing the door behind him.

‘So,’ Sylvain starts, dragging his feet to open the curtains. The fading sunlight is still annoying, but it isn’t strong enough to be too painful to his recovering headache. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

The kid rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, but looks directly at Sylvain’s eyes, in a way that makes the man flinch. ‘I’ve come here because... I’m your son. I think.’

‘You think?’ Sylvain raises an eyebrow, and the boy nods.

‘I was born... Around fourteen years ago, sir. I’m not sure. But,’ he sighs and straightens his back a little. ‘A swordmaster told me some months ago I had the crest of Gautier, sir, and told me to come here.’

Sylvain frowns. ‘A swordmaster?’

‘Her name was Catherine, sir.’ Sylvain groans. Of course. ‘She was accompanied by another woman, and...’

‘Yes. Yes. I get it. But shouldn’t you be... I don’t know, with the rest of your family?’ Instead of coming here to leech off him and his noble title, Sylvain thinks bitterly.

‘My mother died a couple months ago, sir. I have nowhere else to go.’

Something heavy settles in Sylvain’s stomach, and he looks away, from the boy to the never changing landscape of Gautier. A fourteen-year-old orphan... With his damned crest.

What is he supposed to do? Just kick him out? Because he doesn’t want the responsibility of... this whole situation? Abandon him and be just as bad or even worse than Miklan and their father?

But the idea of this boy merely existing is terrifying. The thought of taking him in and having to be a father is exhausting and scary, and he doesn’t know how to do any of it. He didn’t learn a thing of fatherhood from the previous margrave.

Cedric waits, without looking away from Sylvain, and somehow his neutral expression is even worse. He’s so used to dealing with disappointment, he could manage that. But this kid only wants an answer to sort out what to do with his life next.

Maybe it’d be better for both of them to just kick him out, but can Sylvain live with that?

‘Listen, I…’ Sylvain sits. 'You can stay, until I figure out what to do. Just… don't go telling people you're my son.'

'What should I say, then?'

'A distant relative, maybe? That always works…' Cedric stares at him, skeptical. 'Just say that, alright?'

'If I say that now, it's going to be even more embarrassing for you later to admit the truth.'

Fuck, the damn kid has a point.

'...Do whatever you want then. There are going to be rumors anyway…'

'Understood.' Cedric nods.Then, as if remembering something, he asks, 'Oh, is your headache better?'

Sylvain blinks, surprised the kid even remembers that. 'Yes, it's… a little better, I guess.'

* * *

The wyvern stables are close enough to Fhirdiad’s center for most of the commoners to see the crimson mount of the prince of Faerghus at least once every two weeks or so. However, Esen Sol Gloucester is one of the few lucky people that gets to see both prince Adrien and his trusty steed Popola several times a week, as Adrien himself takes care of the massive animal. That Sunday morning isn't any different, as the prince has just come back from his morning flight, and is cleaning "his lady" – as he calls Popola – to the last scale. 

Altenna, meanwhile, sleeps soundly in the next compartment, waiting for her owner to arrive, which he does more or less in time. 'Morning,' he salutes shortly, and of course the prince's eyes are immediately on him, with that exhausting smile.

'Esen! And here I thought you overslept again. I had time to fly for like an hour, all alone.'

'Sorry for not keeping you company, Your Highness.' The prince pouts, and Esen laughs. 'I had better things to do, like sleeping until the air didn't freeze around me.' 

'It's not even that cold…' Adrien whines, brushing Popola's scales. 'Isn't that right, my lady? These people don't know a thing about cold.'

'Enough to know when it's too much,' he argues, and Altenna wakes up as soon as Esen walks by her compartment. The white wyvern huffs happily, and the boy strokes her nose. 

A comfortable silence falls between them for a while, as they feed their wyverns and clean them, until Adrien remembers something. ‘Oh, are you going into the city today?’

Esen nods, rubbing Altenna’s scaly forehead. ‘Yeah, why?’

‘Can I go with you?’

The boy’s eyebrows arch up, although he shouldn’t be surprised at this point. ‘Won’t the advisor get mad again?’

‘I’ll be more careful! That’s all he asked for.’

Esen looks skeptical, but sighs in the end, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘If he gets mad, you’re facing the consequences alone.’

Adrien makes a mischievous smile, and immediately wraps a cape around his shoulders, clasping it closed with a dragonfly brooch. ‘Got it. Let’s go.’

* * *

Esen’s steps take him to the School of Sorcery of Fhirdiad, not too far away from the castle much to Adrien’s disappointment, who thought they were going to explore the city a little more. Well, at least they had stopped so Esen could buy some tomes, but that wasn’t fun. 

‘I have to study, Your Highness,’ he whines. ‘If you want to help, I have no problem with that. But you’re horrible at magic.’

‘You could practice by teaching me.’

‘I don’t have the patience for that. Ask Sarah.’

‘Sarah would whack me at every little mistake…’ Adrien murmurs, adjusting his cape properly to hide his face as much as possible as they enter the school. Esen scoffs, but doesn’t say anything else as they rush to the shared chambers the twins use. It’s not Adrien’s first time in this place, but the school is so old and it’s layout so confusing, he'd get lost without his friend’s guidance.

The room is empty when they arrive, Sarah’s part of the room completely tidy and organized, a striking contrast to Esen’s half. He leaves the new tomes from the market on his bed, which is already filled with books, and sighs. Tidying it up is going to take time. ‘Well, thank you for your company, Your High…’

‘I need your help.’

Esen turns to the prince, raising one eyebrow. Adrien’s face has turned serious, even a little embarrassed, and Esen pushes away some books to make some space for them to sit down. ‘What is it?’

Adrien sits down, and fidgets with his own fingers until he finds the words to express what’s on his mind. ‘I’ve… always been told my mom was a maid that died during childbirth, right? But… I don’t think that is what happened.’

‘Why?’

‘It doesn’t… add up. My father isn’t like that. If that had happened, I think I’d know the maid’s name by now, and she’d have her own grave and all that stuff. And nobody else seems to know about it… It’s strange.’

‘Maybe she didn’t want her identity known.’

‘Maybe, but… I don’t know, there’s just something strange. I think my missing parent is… someone else.’

‘Like who?’

‘I’ve considered many people.’ Adrien sighs, still embarrassed by how paranoid his words sound. ‘But… There’s someone I suspect.’

‘Who?’

‘Duke Fraldarius.’

Esen frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘It’s like you’re consistently trying to piss him off, you know.’

‘I’ve heard things,’ Adrien continues. ‘There are plenty of rumors that he was born a duchess, or something like that? I don’t get it, but whenever someone even mentions that near him, he gets angry.’

‘Understandably,’ Esen adds. 

‘He’s always been close to father… and to me. And yet he won’t tell me anything about this. That’s why I need your help.’

‘I… I don’t follow.’

That mischievous smile appears on his face again, and maybe Esen should be terrified of whatever is going through Adrien’s head right now.

‘I need your help,’ he whispers, slowly. ‘To sneak into his office in the castle.’

'No,' He replies immediately.

'You don't have to do anything yourself. Only I will get in trouble.'

Esen starts picking up the books on his bed, anxious. 'No, no, no. I don't trust you. And Duke Fraldarius is scary.'

'I just need that fairytale book of yours.'

Esen frowns, placing random books mindlessly on his desk. 'Which one?' He has plenty of those, brought from Gloucester. 

'The one you told me about… that hero that stole from the rich and unjust? He knew how to lockpick doors, right? I need that information.'

Esen sighs. He could just not search for the book, save himself the worry, and save the prince the scolding he'd surely get from the scariest man in Faerghan court. 'No. That's wrong.'

'Please. I just…' The prince sighs, looking down at his own hands. 'Really want to know if he is… The person I've been searching for.'

That hits something in Esen's chest, bringing back a foggy nightmare of a man that looked way too much like him, darker skin, bright green eyes full of light, Sarah's brown hair. The man who gave him Altenna, who hugged him like he had just found his everything in the world.

His hurt face when Esen had asked something he couldn't remember properly.

He hasn't dared telling his father about this, of course. Father has so many worries. Sarah, as well. The next heirs of Gloucester have no time for a crestless, talentless kid that clings to anything he can to find some purpose.

'...Ugh, alright… But this is a dumb idea.'

* * *

Felix stares at the pile of papers on Dimitri’s desk and grabs a few before looking through them. The king, sitting on his chair, looks up at him, a tired smile on his face. ‘I’ll take these ones,’ he says, and Dimitri nods absent mindedly. ‘So you can go to sleep earlier tonight.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ he replies, sighing, and his arms go around Felix’s waist, pulling him down toward him. Felix groans, but sits down on Dimitri’s lap, and lets him kiss his hair. ‘I love you… You’re too good to me.’

As usual when Dimitri says those three words, Felix stays silent, and dodges the question by analyzing the papers in his hands. A specific name makes him furrow his brow.

Kleiman. Was he still requesting nonsense? What a fool.

‘Let’s take a break, Felix,’ Dimitri suggests, after staring at the request on Felix’s hands as well. ‘We can get some warm tea and then go back to work.’

‘Hm. Sounds like an idea.’ Felix turns his head, his lips meeting Dimitri’s easily.

However, the Kleiman name doesn’t leave his mind, even when their small, affectionate break is done. Felix rereads the request with more attention than the previous one, trying to read between the lines some minimal clue of what has been going around his mind ever since this morning, or even far way back than that. A request to stop the independence of Duscur that Dimitri was trying to put in motion, huh?

Maybe he's had this in his mind for three years, without even realizing it.

* * *

To nobody's surprise, it was a dumb idea. Because Esen's book on fairytales – of course – don't say anything on how the hero lockpicked doors. Why would it, anyway? The message is the important part, not the how. It's a damn fairytale.

And then Adrien had had an even stupider idea. Begrudgingly, Esen accompanied him to the school's library, where they were supposed to, somehow, find a way to lockpick doors as if they were criminals of some kind.

Well, Adrien would be a criminal. He'd just be his accomplice, which is less bad, and on par with that his grandfather expects of him anyway. At least count Gloucester isn't alone thinking sending him here is a waste of time and money, considering how untalented he is for magic and his lack of interest in it.

He would much rather be by his father's side right now, instead in a school for sorcery where he's only being compared to his sister more and more. At the very least he has Altenna, and this crazy prince with dumb, borderline criminal ideas. Despite his complaints, those are good friends to have.

He looks up at the prince, whose nose is buried in a book that probably isn't about lockpicking. He gets distracted by minor things a lot, Esen observes. He wonders if the prince thinks about the rumours going around about him, about being a bastard child and having no right to the throne because of it. Despite his major crest of Blaiddyd. Despite looking almost exactly like the actual and previous kings.

It reminds him of the things people say about Sarah, that despite her crest, she isn't legitimate. That count Gloucester won't accept her, even if he acknowledges her existence.

Where does that leave him, anyway? At the bottom of everyone's priorities, daydreaming of something that happened three years ago with a king that probably doesn't remember the kid he gifted one of his precious white wyverns to. He probably thinks it was a waste of wyvern. 

And then his father had said he had a purpose. He said that a lot, so cryptically. How was he supposed to understand?

'Esen?'

He gasps, looking up at the prince's worried eyes. For how long has he been spacing out for even this airhead to notice?

'I- I'm going to- Somewhere.' He gets up, closing the book he had picked up before. 

'I'll go with you.'

Esen sighs, but doesn't try to stop him. 

There are two elegant balconies in the library, just in case the students wish to get some fresh air after hours of deep focusing on their studies, and that's where Esen is headed, followed by the prince as if he were a duckling. Despite Adrien being significantly taller than him.

Who gave him the right to be taller than many adults at thirteen years old, anyway.

He leans on the balcony, taking in the midday air and looking up at the cloudy sky. It's always so disgustingly grey up here. He doesn't know how Adrien copes with this.

'Are you feeling better?'

Esen shrugs. 'Sort of.'

'What were you thinking about?'

He hums. '...How do you do it?'

Adrien's eyebrows arch up. 'Do what?'

'You know.' But Adrien has no idea what he's talking about. And Esen doesn't feel like explaining much. 'How do you…deal with being. A  _ bastard _ .'

'I'm not– oh. Oh, you mean...' Adrien pouts. 'That's a really strong word.'

'It's what my grandfather calls me. And it also applies to you.'

'I know, I know.' The notion seems to embarrass Adrien more than anything. 'I guess I don't… feel like one. People talk about a lot of things, and you can't possibly make everyone happy all the time.'

'What if you didn't make anyone happy?'

'You make me happy. And Sarah, and your father too.' Esen's nose scrunches up in doubt, and Adrien pouts yet again. 'It's true! Life would be so damn boring without you here.'

Esen looks away, flustered. 'Alright.'

'Ah, I was saying something… Right. Father has always told me that what matters is that I'm his son. The crest is just a nice add on to make annoying people shut up.' He didn't use those exact words, but does it matter as long as the message gets across? ‘And I bet your dad thinks the same thing.'

Esen shrugs, unconvinced. 'What will you do? If… the duke turns out to be your dad?'

'I'll think about that when it happens.'

'You're… messy, do you know that?'

Adrien laughs, putting his hands behind his neck. A gesture duke Fraldarius, ironically, detests to see him make for whatever reason. 'Why would you say that?'

'You improvise all the damn time. This… lockpicking thing is the most planned thing you've ever done, I think.' 

'I'm not going to deny that.'

'And yet it's going to be a mess.'

'Our mess!' Adrien exclames, hugging his friend tightly, and Esen half accepts the hug.

'No. It's all yours.'

'Your Highness!'

A sudden, familiar voice interrupts their hug, and both boys turn to see Sarah and the headmistress of the school, miss Dominic, on the other side of the balcony.

'Are we interrupting something?' Sarah asks, with a soft smile.

'Definitely no.' Her brother answers tiredly, and the director walks up to them. Adrien breaks the hug, letting Annette's hand rest on his cheeks.

'You've grown so tall! Oh, I bet Felix is immensely irritated by it.'

'He… is, ma'am.'

'Let me guess, he said something like… Why is this happening to me!' Her voice changes to a way lower key, and her face turns into a scowl. 'You have no right to do this, piglet.'

Adrien laughs. 'Something like that, yes. He was really annoyed by it.'

'Let him be. He's a big grouch.' Miss Dominic really is one of the few people that dares to talk about the royal advisor like this. 'So, I take that you're finally interested in magic.'

'Not this time!' he replies, much to Annette's disappointment. 'I was just… helping Esen out.'

'You were what–' Sarah elbows him silently.

'Ah, that's good. And, by the way, Esen… Would you come with me? I was searching for you.'

'Me?' Esen chokes on the word. 'Why?'

'There's something I need to talk about with you, but nothing to be scared about.'

_ Ah yes, the headmistress of your boarding school searching for you, specifically, isn't a terrifying thought.  _

Annette waves goodbye at the two kids left behind, placing a gentle hand on Esen's shoulder as they walk away. Sarah watches them go, with a knowing expression.

'Something wrong?'

'Nothing,’ she assures. 'I'm going back inside to keep studying.'

'I'm going with you! Oh, and,' Adrien then presents her his best smile. 'Do you know anything about how a doorknob works?'

* * *

The headmistress’ office is a horrible place to be in. It rarely meant anything good. It feels like being in his grandfather's office, even if he has done nothing wrong and lady Dominic is significantly nicer than count Gloucester. 

He watches her searching around the place, always with that clumsy air about her. She offers him a handful of sweets, which Esen accepts. 'Here. Give me a moment to find it… Goddess, it arrived yesterday and I got this this morning and yet…'

Her desk is filled with examinations and graded papers, and Esen takes a small, sneaky look at them. Nothing with his name or his sister's, even if their grades are incredibly predictable. In very different ways.

What could have the director called him for, beside those bad grades? Is she concerned because he belongs to a noble family? She's never made favoritisms like that before. But if not, why care about him?

'Ah, here it is.' She has a letter in her hand. Is father sending him back home because he is useless at magic? 'Alright, how to say this…'

She massages her temples, and her restlessness makes Esen's stomach hurt with anxiety.

'...Your father… Has denounced your grandfather for… a grand amount of crimes. And reclaimed the title of count Gloucester. So now there's… a conflict between them.'

Esen frowns. His father, defying his grandfather? 'That… doesn't make sense.'

'Your sister said the same thing… But that's the report that arrived. Your father has requested my help, and you two will stay under my tutelage until all this turmoil is solved.'

Esen nods, without even processing what he's nodding at.

* * *

The plan starts when Felix leaves his study. In the adjacent room, a simple room for tea reunions, Adrien listens to the door opening, the steps, and the locking of said door. How long will it take Felix to turn the corner and not see or hear him? He doesn't know, but he's going to risk it. 

Opening the door of this tea room, he peeks at the corridor. A guard walks by, saluting Adrien, and the prince shoots him his most innocent smile. When this guard is gone, he'll have some time to open the door and look inside.

And that's exactly what he does when the guard is done, remembering what Sarah told him about the mechanism of doorknobs. He's not as smart as her, but after some frustrating attempts, something clicks and the door opens.

Adrien feels something in his stomach, like it's shrinking three times less than his size, but he's gone this far, so might as well…

Inhale. Exhale. Don't panic, he tells himself.

He closes the door behind him, and looks at the sparsely decorated room. There are two mountains of papers and a quill on his desk, some shelves with books and little else. There isn't really much to pull from, at least not for what he needs to find out, but maybe that's for the better. Less things to browse through.

And browse he does. Most of the papers on his desk are requests from nobles and groups of commoners, so Adrien doesn't bother searching there. The shelves, meanwhile, are significantly more interesting: Many of them include old copies of records of noble families. 

On one of the shelves, Adrien finds an old iron black spur, and he wonders what Felix could want something like that for. He doesn't touch it, in any case.

Felix is his father's best friend, so it would only make sense he's the same age as his father, so he picks up a record of that year. Was he born on Pegasus Moon? Or Ethereal Moon? He can't remember properly, so he will just search all the winter months.

Good Goddess, it's hard to pay attention to a records book, Adrien finds. Too much information on things that feel like matter really little. And this is probably what awaits him when he succeeds his father.

He'd rather not think about that this moment, though. Memories of his father’s face scrunched up in pain, of Felix's utter panic, they still sting when he thinks about it. Father has been resting more lately because Felix has practically forced him to, but…

A voice. Felix's voice, from the corridor. And then another, deeper voice, getting closer. Adrien hugs the book against his chest, looking around for a place to hide, and finds his hiding spot under Felix's desk.

He's barely the size to be able to hide comfortably. Damn him and his growth spurts.

The door opens easily, and Felix has probably noticed that. Crap. And now he has the book – Felix is observant enough to notice it's gone. Crap crap crap. 

'Maybe it's because your requests are nonsensical.'

Felix sighs and walks around the desk, and Adrien curls up even harder, trying to stay still as stone. Even his eyes are closed, as if that somehow would keep them from seeing him.

'They are not. If you bothered to read them properly–'

'I read all of them, Kleiman.' Felix sounds so tired it's almost hilarious. 'And I recommend you just stop. His Majesty's will on this decision is unwavering, and it will be beneficial for the kingdom.'

His voice sounds like he's reciting a practiced speech, something that his king told him to say instead of lashing out like he usually does. It must be straining him.

'Nonsense. If you'd listen to my ideas…'

'They're useless,' Felix finally snaps, and Adrien can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose and his frustrated face. 

A tense silence, and then Kleiman's voice rises. 'Who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like that? People- People  _ like you- _ ' There's something in the way he's suddenly speaking to Felix that sends shivers down Adrien's spine. 'Should stay quiet and do something more useful for our country. Like have children.'

'Sadly, I have better things to do.'

'You're forgetting what your rightful place is,' the man hisses, ' _ duchess _ .'

Adrien's eyes open wide, and he can hear his own heartbeat drumming on his ears, his breathing heavy enough for anyone else to hear in the whole castle.

The silence doesn't last long, however, and Felix's voice comes out low, dangerous. 'I am Felix Hugo Fraldarius, shield and advisor of house Blaiddyd. Maybe it's you who can't remember his rightful place.'

Adrien gulps, his nails digging into his own palm, knuckles white.

'Now, do me a favor, viscount Kleiman. And leave my office before I have to remove you myself.'

Two, three, four seconds. Some angry mumbling, steps that walk away from the desk. Tension. A door closing with a strong slam. 

Felix's feet dragging on the floor and his body falling on the chair, a way too tired sigh.

And then, the advisor's eyes are on him, the familiar amber that had risen Adrien's suspicions on the first place.

'Get out of there.'

Adrien obeys instantly, standing up as Felix rubs his face with his hands. He hesitates, before putting the records back on their rightful place. And then, he stands awkwardly. 'Did you know I was there?'

'Suspected it. No assassin or spy would leave such a mess. Or enter my room when I'm only going to stay some minutes outside… Or lockpick my door in such a clumsy way.'

Adrien tries to not feel hurt by Felix's words, focusing instead on something else that has stuck in his moment from minutes ago. '...He… Viscount Kleiman called you…'

'Duchess?' Felix winces, and Adrien nods. Then, the advisor points at the chair on the other side of his table. 'Put it here. Close to me.'

Adrien nods again, picking up the old chair easily, and placing it close to Felix's. Then, he sits down, eyes fixed on his own hands.

'I am,' Felix starts, ‘really disappointed in you right now.'

'I'm sorry.'

'If you want to know something about me,' Felix continues, too tired to appear angry. 'Just… ask me.'

'But– But you always get angry when…'

'Not at you.' A long sigh leaves his lungs, and for a moment it looks like Felix might cry. 'And even if I didn't want to talk about it, someone else's intimacy is… more important than your damn curiosity. I thought you were old enough to understand that.'

'...I'm s-sorry,’ he repeats, softer this time.

Esen had been right. This was a really bad idea.

'You're… a good kid. For the most part,' Felix admits, and sighs yet again. 'So I'll give you a chance. To ask me properly.'

Adrien blinks, finally looking up from his own hands. 'If you're not feeling well, I…'

'If you want to ask, do it. I'll decide if I want to answer or not.'

Adrien hesitates. How to ask without sounding… invasive? Though that worry was sort of stupid, when he had tried to invade Felix's privacy just minutes before. He feels tempted to apologize again, but that's not what Felix wants. 

'Why… did viscount Kleiman call you that?'

Felix stays silent, fidgeting with his hair, for so long Adrien thinks of giving up on the question.

'I was born a duchess, you could say,’ he finally says. 'With the title, anyway. Being a noble, my birth was made public. Most people in this… rotten, imbecile court know the name I had back then. But my name is Felix. Felix Hugo Fraldarius. And that old name is dead and has always been. No matter how many people try to keep it alive.'

'Father told me something like that.'

Felix frowns. 'Dimitri?'

Adrien nods. 'He told me something like… respecting everyone on how they present themselves. I really didn't get exactly what he meant with that, but… I think I do now.'

'Of course he would…' A small smile tugs on the corner of Felix's lips, but he suppresses it. 

'I have another question.'

'Don't test your luck, kid. But go on.'

Adrien breathes in, thinking of the best way to word this without angering or hurting Felix even more.

'Do you and father… like each other?'

Felix isn't stupid. He knows what that question means, despite how vague it is, and how he could give a vague reply in return. 

_ Of course I like him. I wouldn't deal with all of this bullshit if it weren't for him and for you. If I didn't want to protect you two with my whole life, because you and your father are all I have left. All my heart truly cares about. _

'That's not something that concerns you, Adrien.'

And there he is, pushing it away. Old habits die hard.

'Alright.'

By the way Adrien fidgets, he knows there are more questions, more answers Felix can't give sincerely. But he seems to be alright with it.

'I'm sorry. Thank you for… for answering me.'

'Have you written a letter to Adel recently?'

The sudden change of subject confuses him. 'N-No. I was going to write one this evening.'

'Let's write it now.'

* * *

Water pours down steadily from the watering can to the crops, which should start growing back soon, resilient plants as they are. Adel is still fascinated by the local Duscur flora, by how it manages to thrive in one the hardest environments of the whole continent. Father told her weeks ago they could even survive Gautier winter, the objectively worst environment for normal plants.

He had also said some of those flowers reminded him of her, and that thought is still embarrassing but also on par with father's personality. 

All of the plants seem to be watered and taken good care of, so Adel leaves the water can aside and gets up, stretching her back and arms after a work well done. From the open window of the house comes a delicious smell that would make anyone's stomach agonize in hunger, and Adel whines out loud at the knowledge that it will still take until mid-day to eat it.

'Excuse me!'

A woman stands outside of their porch, and she recognizes the royal knight’s clothing immediately. 'Yes?'

'Is this the Molinaro house?'

'It is.' 

'I have a letter for Adel Molinaro. I assume that is you?'

'It is me, yes.' She smiles, picking the letter as soon as the knight hands it to her. It's the usual letter from prince Adrien, as expected. Still, it's strange they'd send a proper knight just for a letter, as royal as it is. 'Thank you very much, ma'am.'

The knight smiles back at her, saluting one last time before leaving.

She walks back inside the house, and stops by her father's side to leave a kiss on his cheek. Dedue then kisses her hair in turn. 'Is that from his Highness?'

'It is! I'm going to go read it.'

'Have fun.' Dedue listens to her walk up the stairs, and focuses back to his food. Thinking of the prince, he hopes duke Fraldarius is taking good care of Dimitri and their son. It's been just some months at most, but it feels strange to not be in Fhirdiad, as enjoyable as life has proven to be back in his homeland. And the letters he himself gets from Dimitri aren't quite enough to quell his anxiety.

Suddenly, Adel is walking down the stairs in a hurry. 

'Be careful, you could fall.'

'Father.' Her voice is as serious as it can be, as she holds two pages of paper in her hands. The letter? 'There's something for you.'

'Me?' Dedue frowns, putting the food aside for a while to hold the papers she's handing to him. Indeed, at the top of the letter it says it's for his eyes, and his only. It's signed with duke Fraldarius' seal.

Why would Felix write to him? And why hidden in one of Adrien's letters?

'Adel. Would you look over the kitchen while I find out what this is?'

'Sure!'

She takes over the kitchen, and Dedue goes to his own room, sitting down in front of his desk to read it properly. 

The letter starts with some descriptions of Dimitri's health in excruciating detail, of the prince's studies and some anecdotes. It feels strange, unnatural of Felix of all people. They weren't friends, so why…

The middle of the second page is the answer, with three sentences standing out to Dedue’s eyes.

_ Someone is conspiring to kill the royal family, and my main suspect is viscount Kleiman. _

_ You're the only person I can trust with this. _

_ I'm asking for your help protecting both Dimitri and Adrien. _

Felix, asking for help. That alone is almost as terrifying as the content of the letter itself.

Dedue gathers quill, paper and ink, and starts writing his reply.


	9. Only miss the road when you're missing home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha what if Sylvain and Felix met again after years of silent treatment! Haha jk... Unless??
> 
> Thank you @/saunattontu for helping me out figuring out the Faerghus' legal system (and for proofreading all of this monstrous fic and especially the 7k chapters like this one. God knows you deserve the world.)
> 
> We're getting to the end. Holy shit it's happening.

**A year and a half later**

Felix wakes up to familiar kisses on his skin, to a voice that whispers sweet words into his ear. The night has been a deep, dreamless one, so this feels like a recurring dream. Slowly, his awareness of the world comes back, with the arm Dimitri hugs his body, the long and loving kisses on his naked shoulder.

The days when Dimitri wakes up earlier than him are rare, and sometimes it's because the chronic pain is back, but this time, when he turns his head to look at him, there's only sheer tenderness looking back. 

'Good morning, my beloved.'

Felix sighs, turning around to bury his face in the king's chest. His words sound slurred and too rough. 'Good morning…'

Dimitri laughs, and his fingers draw circles on Felix's back, his lips leaving kisses on his hair. 'Feeling lazy, are we…'

Felix murmurs something against Dimitri's skin, getting a smile from him. ‘Don’t you dare suggest we keep sleeping…’

Dimitri whines, nuzzling Felix’s hair until the latter looks up, uniting their lips in a short morning kiss. ‘There’s work to do, isn’t there…’

‘There always is,’ Felix concludes, finally pushing Dimitri away and sitting up on the bed. As he does every morning, he puts his hair up in a simple ponytail, and picks up the scattered clothes around the room. Dimitri watches as he gets dressed, smiling silently. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’

‘Good, I think…’ The king finally follows his advisor out of bed, bothering only with a shirt before walking back to the other’s side. His arms wrap around Felix out of habit, not wanting to let him go just yet. ‘Nothing hurts, so far.’

‘That won’t justify you skipping your medicine.’

‘I know.’ He leans down for another kiss, which Felix accepts. ‘I did promise you I’d take care of myself… I dare say I’m doing a stellar job.’

‘A decent one.’ Especially considering just how bad the king is at this. He kisses Felix again, apparently unable to let go of his mouth for more than five minutes, and he really ought to be more irritated about it. ‘Dress yourself properly, for Goddess’ sake.’

‘Mmh, I should, yes…’ Dimitri yawns, finally letting go of his advisor to clothe himself with some pants. Felix, in the meantime, briefly reads over the urgent requests and reports on Dimitri’s desk, and among them, the hidden letter Adrien gave him yesterday. 

He’s been collecting everything Dedue has sent him, alongside all he could find about viscount Kleiman elsewhere. All the records of the family, the traces of all their money, their closest possible allies, rumours whispered in the very same tone as those who make Felix wince. Of previous suspicions of participation in the Tragedy of Duscur, now so long ago.

The results had been interesting, but not definitive. For example, many maids recommended by House Kleiman had served at Adrien’s tenth birthday. But they need something incriminating him directly, not just vague possibilities.

Felix groans in frustration, when he hears an uneven couple of knocks on the door to the royal chambers. He hurries to fold the letter and hide it inside his jacket. 

‘Come in,’ Dimitri’s voice says.

The two seconds of hesitation make Felix frown. A face he doesn’t know very well - a new maid, maybe - enters with the king’s breakfast. 

‘Your Majesty. Duke Fraldarius.’

‘Ah, good morning,’ Dimitri says, ever so polite, but even he notices something is amiss. He doesn’t say anything, however, walking up to the tray filled with delicious looking food - which feels like a waste, for someone who can’t even taste - and the small vial with his medicine. ‘I thank you for your service.’

‘It’s my pleasure, Your Majesty.’ She bows, a little too much for Felix’s liking. ‘I hope it’s enjoyable.’

The maid leaves the tray, and turns around to walk out of the room, when Felix speaks for the first time. ‘Wait.’

She halts, turning back to the advisor. ‘Yes, lord Fraldarius?’

‘Is the usual maid sick?’

‘Yes, sir.’ She nods, keeping her eyes on the floor and her hands over the apron. ‘Terrible stomach aches, I’ve been told.’

‘I see.’ Dimitri looks at Felix, wondering silently what is going through his head. ‘Well, you haven’t been well informed about your duties, then.’

The maid opens her mouth, visibly tense. ‘What do you mean, sir?’

‘Usually, I’m also brought my breakfast to the king’s chambers,’ Felix points out, a detail Dimitri had also noticed.

‘Understood. I’m s-’

‘But most importantly, the usual maid often takes a taste of His Majesty’s medicine,’ he lies blatantly, and Dimitri forces a serene smile out of his own lips. ‘To assure it’s not too sour. So.’ He picks up the vial of medicine, handing it to the maid. ‘A simple swig should be enough.’

The maid’s lips press together, and she swallows tight. ‘I don’t know if it’s necessary that I take His Majesty’s medicine.’

‘It’s quite alright,’ Dimitri himself says, keeping up a peaceful expression somehow. 

‘It’s a painkiller,’ Felix continues. ‘There should be no problem for you with just a small sip. Correct?’

‘Yes, but…’ 

Hesitating, her trembling hands grab the vial, eyes fixated on it. Seconds go by, and Felix crosses his arms under his chest, standing between her and king, so tense he can hear his own accelerated heartbeat in his ears.

The thing that manages to break the silence are Dimitri’s steps, as he walks closer to the maid, who looks up at him in the way someone would look at a wild bear. When his voice comes out, however, it’s filled with pity and disappointment.

‘What did they offer you to do this?’

Her lips start shaking, and she squeaks, bursting out in tears.

* * *

There were things Felix, more than anyone, didn’t need to know. Felix was soft, felt too much, cried so very easily. So he and Glenn had set out on eerily similar quests without noticing: Of protecting Felix’s emotions for as long as the world deemed it possible.

So when Sylvain visited Fraldarius, Glenn would look at the bandaids on the redhead’s face, at the bruise on his eye, his swollen cheek; and not say anything about Sylvain’s shitty excuses of falling off a tree or other minor incidents. He would only buy his lies because Felix believed them so easily. So truthful, he was. 

Sylvain was all about protecting. The country, the border, the Gautier bloodline, Felix. And yet he couldn’t truly protect anything, because as soon as Glenn was gone, naturally, the Felix that had existed up to that moment had hidden himself, full of grief, in the depths of his mind.

_ You really can’t protect anything you hold dear, Sylvain. _

It’s not often that he dreams of Glenn, but when he does, he always wakes up with a foggy mind, as if his ghost still lingers after decades of being gone. It’s a pretty and terrifying thought, depending on the perspective, but better than acknowledging what those memories suddenly coming back in the last months could mean.

He gets up and gets dressed like every morning, sighing at his own reflection in the mirror. He looks bad, but not terrible, and that’s a positive. It’s also an odd sunny day up in Gautier, Sylvain wishes he could be in the mood to enjoy it like he probably should, but today is just not the day, he knows already.

If the ghost of Glenn doesn’t linger, the memories of younger Felix do, even if the rest of last night’s dream dissolves into nothing. 

He stops by a room close to his, and stares at it, weak sunlight falling from behind him. Sylvain raises his hand, and with a tired sigh, knocks on it.

Nothing. 

‘I’m coming in.’

The door isn’t locked - Cedric never locks his door, he has found out recently - and Sylvain walks into a room in pristine shape, except for the boy deeply asleep on the desk. 

Old habits die hard, so Sylvain looks at whatever the kid has spent the whole night reading. It’s mostly books about Fodlán history and bloodlines, and Sylvain winces. What a topic to be reading about in this house, of all places. 

He grabs the kid’s shoulder, shaking it softly, and Cedric whines something intelligible before actually opening his eyes. ‘Wha…’

‘It’s morning, kid. The sun has come out and everything.’ 

Cedric whines again like a small animal, but wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth and rubs his eyes. ‘Hmm…’

‘I’ll be waiting in the dining hall.’ 

The boy nods, already gathering the scattered documents on his desk for, probably, another later read tonight.

It is indeed an ordinary days by all means: When Sylvain walks in the dining hall, the breakfast is almost served. Cedric arrives shortly after, looking fresh despite the shortened sleep he’s gotten today. Sylvain wishes he knew how to do that, but maybe it’s just Cedric’s young age.

They eat breakfast without many words, except for a couple comments from the kid about the weather and the topics he got so absorbed by yesterday night. Sylvain, for the most part, replies curtly, or limits himself to listening. Cedric has a nice voice to listen to.

This painfully ordinary day turns strange the moment a messenger calls for margrave Gautier’s presence, and Cedric looks up at him with a question in his eyes that he has no answer for. 

He thought all the reports of the month were done, so this must be urgent. Otherwise, only Mercedes or Ingrid could’ve written to him casually, but somehow he doubts that’s the case.

Behold his surprise, when the urgent letter turns out to have the unforgettable seal of House Fraldarius.

Felix.

He rushes back to his chambers, barely managing to thank the messenger before he effectively locks himself up in the room with the letter. 

Felix. Felix wrote. Sylvain leaves the letter on the bed, and walks around the room aimlessly, massaging his temples in a ridiculous spectacle of cowardice. He walks closer to the letter, picking it up like it burns. He searches inside one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out a small knife, and placing it under the opening of the envelope.

With that, he cuts the Fraldarius seal in half.

Sylvain pulls the folded paper out of the envelope, and leaves it on the centre of the desk as it is. What could Felix write to him for? He thought they weren’t on speaking terms, and he knows why, he know it’s his fault. Only something really big could make Felix resort to him. Did something happen to Dimitri or Adrien? That’s the most likely option. 

He shouldn’t hope for anything.

His hands unfold the paper, and Sylvain could recognize that handwriting anywhere, despite the years that have passed since the last time he saw it. This truly is Felix.

_ “Sylvain:” _

Crude as usual, but at least he’s not calling him  _ margrave _ .

_ “Adrien is in danger, and the only place where I can trust he’ll be safe, after giving it a lot of thought, is Gautier territory. Hence why I ask for one single favor: That you accept to shelter him until this situation is solved and protect him from any harm. Reply as soon as you can, whatever your answer is. _

_ If your answer is yes, do not accept the services of any person affiliated with viscount Kleiman or his allies. Even if you do say no, don’t get too close to him.” _

_ “Felix.” _

Sylvain leans back on the chair, taking in the words and the implications between the lines. The first image of Adrien that comes to his mind is of the baby he was more than ten years ago, held firmly by Felix’s arms. Somehow, he can feel the desperation of a scared father in the paper and ink, and maybe he hasn’t forgotten as much of Felix as he thought.

Which is comforting, but he has no time to focus on that when there are darker things to reflect on. In danger? Kleiman? He knows that name just as he knows any other, but the gears start turning in his head the instant he remembers more details.

Sylvain scoffs as he rereads the letter. As if he could ever say no to such a request.

* * *

‘Are you sure about this?’

It’s not the first time Dimitri asks that, and it’s not like Felix hasn’t questioned it himself. But every single time he had arrived at the same conclusion, and prayed to a Goddess he didn’t even believe in that hard to be right about this. ‘Yes,’ he sighs, adjusting his clothes in front of the mirror, and turning back to him. ‘Fhirdiad has proven to be unsafe, twice. And, if that maid was right… Adrien isn’t going to be safe here. Especially if we start accusing people… Gautier is the second safest place in this damn country.’

‘And will he be fine with giving Adrien shelter?’

Felix takes his time to answer. ‘I… Doubt he could hurt Adrien. He’s fallen low before, but not to that point.’

Dimitri’s fingers run through his hair, and his hand cups his cheek, leaning down for a kiss that Felix allows, closing his eyes. It’s slow, soft, and the king’s thumb strokes his face. ‘I trust your decisions, as you trust mine.’

Felix nods, tucking a strand of golden hair behind Dimitri’s ear. Mutual trust and these small affections he had gotten so used to… He has been such a stubborn fool for so long, he realizes.

It takes more kisses until Dimitri’s arms finally let him go. ‘Be careful.’

‘I will. You too.’ They nod at each other, unspoken words between them that only they can understand. Dimitri’s hands hold Felix’s again, kissing them over the gloves. ‘Ingrid should stay by your side at all times.’

‘I know.’ Dimitri places Felix’s hands on his cheeks. ‘I love you.’

Felix sighs, and gently pulls him down so their foreheads can touch. An answer as good as he can give, and yet Dimitri still waits.

His chest feels heavy with words not yet ready to be spoken. 

‘I have to talk with Adrien, before you two go,’ Dimitri mutters, giving up on an answer.

Felix hums. ‘I’ll recheck everything, then.’

The room feels a little colder when Felix leaves, but Dimitri will just have to deal with it. He should be back soon, sooner than Adrien anyway. But it’s still going to be lonely, and somewhat terrifying. Without Felix, he can already feel his paranoid thoughts bubbling up in his brain.

He stands there, terrified by his own mind’s whispers. What if this is the last day he sees Felix. What if this is the last time he hears Adrien’s voice. What if, after all that has happened, he dies without hearing Felix say he loves him back?

Dimitri sighs, and finally manages to drag himself out of Felix’s chambers. As expected, he finds Adrien in his room, getting the very last suitcase ready with his most personal belongings. One broken wooden sword included.

‘Why would you bring that to training, son?’

Adrien jumps in place, spooked, and the wooden sword falls to the floor. ‘Father!’

‘The very same.’ He walks up to the young boy, closing the door behind him first. ‘How are preparations going?’

‘Felix is a little too nervous about it, I think,’ Adrien says, picking the sword back up, with the care of someone holding his most precious treasure. ‘He’s a little too paranoid. I think.’

‘Well, that would be because he cares about you deeply.’ Dimitri casually sits on the edge of his son’s bed, arms and legs crossed. ‘Do you remember the origin of that wooden sword?’

Much to his surprise, Adrien smiles. ‘Yes, I do. Vaguely, but… It was Felix, right? He gave it to me.’

Dimitri smiles with him. ‘It was him, indeed…’

‘And then I got hurt because I broke it… and he kneeled down and healed me. I don’t remember anything else, though.’

‘I see… He’s always loved you so dearly.’ 

Adrien sits by his father’s side, the wooden sword on his lap, and he traces the lines on the wood. ‘Yes… I know. I… He’s like another father for me. Someone I can trust as much as I trust you for everything.’

He shouldn’t be the one hearing these things, Dimitri realizes with a sting in his chest, and he puts a hand on his son’s back. ‘You should tell him. He’ll be flustered, but also deeply grateful.’

Adrien nods. ‘I’ll tell him. It’s just… hard to find the right time.’

‘Believe me, I know.’ He pulls Adrien closer, nuzzling the kid’s hair. ‘It’s never the exact right time… it never feels like it is.’

Adrien looks at him, noticing something behind Dimitri’s words. And, ironically, this feels like the fitting time to speak about what he’s been avoiding for three lustrums. 

‘...Adrien… I need to tell you about something.’

‘I’m listening, father.’

‘Gautier… is a more dangerous place than Fhirdiad, sharing the border with Sreng. Despite the peace treaties, I hope you’re careful. And...’ Before Adrien can interrupt him and drive away the little bravery still in Dimitri, he continues. ‘If… Something, anything happens, that torments you… Do not let it consume you like it did me.’

‘...Father? What do you mean?’ 

Dimitri’s hands wrap around Adrien’s, and the former wonders when did his son grow so much, to the point of being almost his height, to the point of his hands not fitting under his father’s anymore. 

‘Do you remember what I’ve told you about the Tragedy of Duscur, Adrien?’

‘It’s… where grandfather and Dedue’s family died. Alongside many other people.’

‘Correct.’ Dimitri nods. Despite the time, the scars of that event still burn. ‘I was there. I saw… all of it. I have nightmares about that day, still… I took it upon myself to avenge all of them. All those people. The… honorable thing to do, since I was the only one to survive. And yet, in the end… All I became was a slaughtering beast, with so many ghosts clinging to my back... who still haunt me to this day sometimes.’

Adrien blinks. ‘...Father, your eye…’

He squeezes Adrien’s hand. ‘None of the stories I told you were the truth, Adrien. But there are details I… still don’t feel capable of telling you. But, your father, I-’ He looks down at their hands, unable to look at his son in the eye. ‘Despite the monster I still know I am, I love you more than anything in this world. And all I want is for you to never have to carry the same grief I had to alone. So, please… If there is anything torchering you at any point… Do not let yourself carry it all alone.’

Adrien nods, oddly silent, looking at his father with a new emotion that Dimitri is too scared to discern. Fear? Hate? He'd understand, even if it would break his heart nonetheless. 'I won't, father. Thank you.'

* * *

It's another ordinary day turned strange when the prince of Faerghus and the advisor arrive at Gautier, in a carriage that bears the royal emblem of Blaiddyd. Sylvain, who's been unable to sleep properly as of late, has been waiting for them since before the sun started to rise, and so when he is informed of their arrival, he's more anxious than he is surprised.

Cedric is right by his side, and Sylvain wishes his excitement to meet what is  _ an actual prince, in the flesh  _ (as he had said) were contagious. 

His eyes follow the vehicle as the carriage comes to a stop, and his stomach shrinks when he sees him step down from it. His midnight hair is significantly longer, tied in a high ponytail. His amber eyes look tired, framed by eyebags, but still alert, darting around the place like he subconsciously expects an ambush. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to look at Sylvain at all. He wouldn’t blame him.

But eventually, he has to. The prince peeks out of the carriage, getting out after his father. He towers over Felix, a fact that would’ve been funny if Sylvain’s chest didn’t feel so heavy.

And he looks so much like Dimitri.

Somehow, Sylvain still manages a cheerful smile. ‘Welcome! It’s been a while since you visited, Felix.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

‘Understandable. Oh, and the so famous prince of Faerghus.’ He ruffles Adrien’s hair, and there’s little reaction from Felix. If he’s thinking the same things as Sylvain, he doesn’t show it. ‘It’s your first time here, isn’t it?’

‘It is, sir.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Sylvain admits, and signals for Cedric to come closer. ‘This… This is my son. Cedric Gautier.’

Felix finally reacts, looking at the boy and then at Sylvain.

‘Your Highness,’ Cedric says, bowing to him, and by Adrien’s reaction, it’s a little too much. ‘Allow me to show you around.’

‘Sure.’

Adrien nods, and the kids leave under the adults’ watchful eyes. A deep, exhausted sigh comes out of Felix’s chest, catching Sylvain’s attention.

‘I must get going.’

Sylvain frowns. ‘You’ve just arrived.’

Felix rubs his face, his eyebags even more evident now that Adrien isn’t around. ‘I must go back to Dimitri’s side, just in case…’

‘Felix, you need to rest. At least one full night.’

Another sigh, a frustrated groan, signs Sylvain can still understand without the need of Felix putting anything into words. Some things truly never change. ‘I… can’t.’

‘You haven’t slept at all, during the entire trip here, have you?’ Felix makes the slightest pout. ‘You can stay for the night. And tomorrow, before sunrise, you’ll go back to Fhirdiad.’

Felix hesitates, again, unable or unwilling to look at Sylvain properly, to even get too close to him. He doesn’t know if Felix is doing it on purpose or subconsciously, but it hurts all the same. Not only because he’s doing it, but mostly because Sylvain knows it’s entirely his fault. 

His hand advances towards Felix’s, but he slaps it away immediately.

‘I’ll stay. But don’t touch me.’

* * *

Felix prepares to leave before sunrise, just like Sylvain had suggested, and there’s a strange air lingering between them as they eat breakfast together, Cedric and Adrien still asleep. Felix hasn’t slept much, but he looks better than the previous evening, and Sylvain tries to not stare at him too much, at risk of having Felix misinterpret him.

But it’s hard not to. He hasn’t tied up his hair yet, and so it cascades down to his chest. He looks older, which should be obvious, it’s been a while. But in Sylvain’s mind, he’d always picture Felix as his younger self, the one that had given birth to Adrien in that terrifying night. Memories of that time still make his stomach feel strange. What foolish ideas had crossed his head back then.

‘I have to leave.’ Felix says suddenly, getting up. ‘I’ve stayed here long enough.’

Sylvain nods, and swallows the food he’s been chewing for way too long. ‘You should say goodbye to the little piglet prince, though.’

‘I don’t want to wake him up,’ Felix mutters.

‘Still, I bet he’d be terribly sad if you don’t say goodbye.’

That seems to convince Felix a little, and, without a word, he leaves the dining hall, and Sylvain sits alone with his memories of a Felix that would fit perfectly in his arms. Or at least that’s what he used to think.

Felix’s carriage leaves after a short goodbye, disappearing far into the way to the capital, and Sylvain watches until everything of it has vanished and the prince is back inside, following Cedric’s steps. 

* * *

He spends the whole trip back questioning if he's done the right thing, and even as he walks under the Faerghus banner, on his way to meet the king, he prays for Adrien's safety.

Gautier is safe. He can trust Sylvain with this. Even if he can't with anything else.

But the only thing able to relieve at least part of his anxiety is seeing Dimitri, standing alone in the audience room, waiting for him, smiling as soon as he sees him from the corner of the eye.

'Felix.'

_ You're safe _ , both want to say.

‘Have there been any advances in the investigation?’

‘Viscount Kleiman is currently missing,’ Dimitri mutters, holding Felix’s hands. ‘But we think he’s trying to head to old Empire territory. There have been knights set up in Arianrhod and other locations close to the old border that will bring him to Fhirdiad immediately after capture.’

Felix nods and hums absentmindedly. Good, he’s walking away from Adrien’s location, but… ‘So he knows about the investigations.’

‘He at least suspects something. He must have panicked.’

‘He’s too prideful to take himself out of the picture,’ Felix rationalizes, letting go of Dimitri’s hand to fidget with the cord around his neck. ‘So he’s certainly alive. We just need to capture him before he manages to get to Enbarr.’

Dimitri nods, and presses his lips against Felix’s hair. ‘How is Adrien?’

‘Sylvain has a kid now.’ Dimitri blinks, taken by surprise. Felix can relate to that feeling, even if it’s something all of them should have expected. ‘He seems around Adrien’s age, so… if anything, he won’t be lonely.’ 

‘That’s good to know.’

Dimitri cups Felix’s face with his free hand.

‘Dimitri?’

‘Everything is going to be alright, isn’t it?’

Felix frowns. ‘Yes. It will be.’

* * *

News come from the capital in the form of Felix’s letters, and barely anything else.

And he doesn’t tell Adrien any of it, just as Felix requests in said letters. He looks up from the sheets of paper, to look at the two kids playing chess by the window, making use of the few sunlight this damn place has. 

He watches the pieces being placed on the board and the focused frowns on both Cedric and Adrien’s faces, and then the smile on the former.

‘Checkmate.’

‘Agh!’ the prince groans, ruffling his own hair in frustration. 'You won again…'

'You should pay more attention, Your Highness,' Cedric laughs as he begins to gather the pieces. Then Adrien opens his mouth to protest. 'You said it was five to five, Your Highness. We're done.'

'Y-Yes, but…' He pouts, hands turned into fists. A little of a sore loser, like someone Sylvain knows. 'Ugh, alright…'

He has noticed Cedric smiles significantly more whenever Adrien is around. It's about the prince specifically, since the newest Gautier seems to dislike the company of people over all, and is bad at lying, so he isn't pretending to get along with him either.

At least he's making a friend, instead of locking himself up in his room with his studies.

After putting all the pieces and the chess board inside it's box, Cedric gets up and leaves the room to place it where it belongs, leaving Sylvain and Adrien alone for a while. The kid's amber eyes immediately fall on the paper's on Sylvain's hand. 'Is that news from my father? Or Felix?'

'Yes, they're… alright. As always.'

'It's not just training, isn't it?'

Sylvain blinks a couple times, straightening his back against the chair. 'What do you mean?'

'Sending me here. It wasn't only because I needed harsher training, right?'

The kid’s smarter than it looks, Sylvain thinks, and he folds the paper in his hands to leave it on the table. ‘It isn’t. But it’s better if you don’t know…’

‘Does it have anything to do with what happened when I turned ten?’

‘...Yes,’ he admits. Well, Felix never instructed him he should keep it a secret, even if that had been his apparent intentions. Keeping Adrien away from this worry and paranoia as much as possible. ‘Someone tried to kill your father. And… Felix reacted by sending you here. Where I will assure you’re safe.’

‘I see… And what about father?’

Sylvain forces a smile. ‘I think nothing can kill His Majesty, kid. Only age, maybe.’

That, at least, seems to help the young prince relax. There’s something about him that, beyond the Dimitri similarities, reminds him of a younger Felix.

‘Sir Sylvain?’

‘Hm?’

‘You were staring at me.’

‘Ah, it’s just… you look so much like your father.’

The prince giggles. ‘I’ve been told that a lot.’

_ But not in the way I’m saying it _ , Sylvain thinks, before smiling with him. 

  
  


He’s good at noticing the small things nobody else does, and one of those things is the prince’s distracted demeanor ever since their conversation days ago. He’s been, officially, brought here to train, and that’s what the two kids do the most to pass the time, and in the breaks Sylvain allows himself during work, he oversees the teenagers training, and a smirk escapes him every time Adrien breaks yet another lance or sword.

‘You’re going to drive this whole house into poverty.’ 

The prince yelps - he gets spooked so easily, Sylvain observes - and crushes the handle under his hand. ‘I’m- Sorry-’

‘It’s alright.’ He walks closer to them, hands on his waist. ‘If Dimitri hasn’t broken Areadbhar yet, you probably won’t break it either.’

‘Maybe… Oh! Sir Sylvain...’ His eyes alternate between Cedric and Sylvain. ‘Don’t you have a relic as well? Cedric, have you seen it?’

‘I… haven’t.’ He shakes his head, and then looks at Sylvain as well. ‘Can we see it?’

It feels like he’s being cornered, by two couples of big and curious eyes that, understandably, just want to see the objects of legend so many children have probably heard about. But still, his stomach turns every time he thinks of holding the Lance of Ruin again.

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’ He attempts to avoid being affected by the boys’ disappointed faces. ‘It’s a dangerous object. I’m sure His Majesty has told you that too, Adrien.’

The prince scoffs, turning to his friend. ‘I’ve seen Areadbhar, but father won’t let me even hold it. When he grabs it, the whole thing glows orange… His hand, too. It’s really strange.’

‘The Lance of Ruin is like that, too,’ Sylvain admits. ‘But it’s not that special. It’s a strong weapon, but other weapons are also strong. It depends mostly on you and how much effort you put in.’

_ How hypocritical of you, Sylvain. Who do you think you’re fooling? You lazy piece of waste. _

‘So when we get stronger, we can use them?’

He’s never been so grateful for Cedric’s voice interrupting his thoughts. ‘Yeah, sure. But you have to be very strong.’

That is enough for Cedric and Adrien, at least for now, and they go back to their training without much more hassle. The prince overpowers his opponent easily in brute force - just like a normal Blaiddyd - but Cedric has an unpredictable, anything goes sort of style when fighting. Allowing himself to forget about his work for a moment, Sylvain leans on the stone wall of the training grounds and continues watching.

* * *

‘I’ll now proceed to summarize the evidence given for this case.’

Felix’s nose scrunches up, and he tenses up on his chair, arms crossed over his chest. Under the table, one of Dimitri’s hands rests on his leg, trying to soothe their common anxiety.

‘According to the first culprit’s confession, an associate of viscount Kleiman intimidated her into attempting an assassination of the king through poisoning, by adding a significant amount of strong toxic elements to his vial medicine during breakfast.'

The viscount lowers his head, surprising Felix with the fact that even he can feel shame.

'It has also been discovered that many servants associated with House Kleiman were present at the crown prince's tenth birthday, where His Highness was victim of poisoning.'

Felix's grip on his own arm tightens. He's looking at the face of the man who almost killed his son, and, somehow, he's keeping himself from tearing his head off his shoulders. With a side look, he notices the fake serenity on Dimitri's face, which doesn't match with the way the hand on Felix's thigh trembles.

'Aside from the witness' testimony, we also have reports from sir Dedue Molinaro,' the noble continues, 'of some suspicious interferences with the reconstruction of Duscur that can be traced back to House Kleiman's activity, as the destruction of crops by hired bandits, and several requests from the viscount to His Majesty to regain back dominion over the now independent region.'

He keeps narrating minor evidence they have found over the last few years, and Felix uncrosses his arms to place his hand on Dimitri's, squeezing it.

'And now we will proceed to vote the sentence. How many of us find the accused nobles to blame for their accusations?' 

Felix raises his hand, with a tired sigh, among all of the present nobility. 

'The sentences for viscount Kleiman's accomplices will be exile, and the viscount will be executed for double treason. Does anyone have disagreements with this resolution?'

None of the members of the king's council raises their hand or speaks out, and the viscount whimpers, mumbling something under his breath that makes Felix squint.

'I'll dispose of him myself,' Felix's voice doesn't falter, as he looks at the viscount in the eyes. 'If the council and His Majesty will allow it.'

Dimitri sighs, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. 'I… will allow it.'

The rest of the council nods as well, and Felix watches as the viscount is dragged outside of the room down to his jail beneath the castle.

Soon, Dimitri and Felix are the only people remaining in the room, and Dimitri's hand is on Felix's hip, keeping him closer. 'You don't have to do this.'

'I have to be sure he's dead for good,' Felix argues, looking up at the completely exhausted king. 

'I… dislike death sentences. It's one of the many things I've been meaning to abolish…'

'Even if they tried to kill you and Adrien?'

Dimitri sighs, so deeply Felix feels he might crumble down at any moment. 'Even then, I… I wonder if this is the right thing.'

'I think it is.'

Dimitri gives him a look, but refrains from saying anything. Felix, meanwhile, looks at the door from where the man that almost took away all he had left walked out minutes ago.

  
  


When he does walk down to the dungeous, he does it accompanied by Ingrid and nobody else. The knight holds a torch over their heads, illuminating the way down the stairs, until they get to the jails. Most of them are empty, so it's easy to find viscount Kleiman just by the sound of his mumblings, probably prayers to the Goddess. 

Felix, however, couldn't care less about his piety.

'You're dismissed. Come back when instructed to,' Felix orders, without looking away from the jailed man, curled up in his jail. He's been prepared for the execution, hands tied behind his back, ankles tied as well. 

Being executed by the sword of Moralta is an honor this man doesn't deserve, Felix thinks with disgust.

'Straighten yourself.'

The viscount grumbles, but obeys, looking up at Felix with defiance. Somehow, there's still some of that in this pathetic little man.

'You will pay for this, Fraldarius. I'm not the only one that knows of your plans.'

'I doubt you can know of a plan that doesn't exist.'

'Of getting close to the king, manipulating him to gain power… Having a bastard with him, knowing that wretched beast to be weak of heart.'

He has heard of them, as has Ingrid. The rumours of duke Fraldarius trying to leech off the king's power. Of using the prince to his advantage.

It's so ridiculous, so detached from what really has been happening, that in any other circumstance it'd make him laugh. But this is no moment for that, so instead, he squats to the height of Kleiman's eyes, giving him a false sense of equality. 'Before you go, allow me to tell you this: No person like you will ever harm Dimitri or my son again. Because I won't allow it.'

Viscount Kleiman's eyes open wide at Felix's admission, and then squint. 'I knew it. You…'

'Get in the position. Don't make me or commander Galatea bother with it.' He unsheathes the sword of Moralta, who glows blue at Felix's touch. 'Unless you don't want a quick, clean death.'

The nobleman seems to finally give up, offering his neck to Felix, and his grip on the sword of Moralta tightens as he raises it over Kleiman. He isn't an executioner, he's the king's advisor, but he knows how to cut flesh in the exact spots to kill quickly.

A skill he hopes Adrien never has to learn.

The blade falls swift as a gale, cutting as it crosses the man's neck from one side to the other, and the head rolls on the ground with a disturbing expression frozen on it's face.

He's dead, with no turning back, and an uncomfortable yet familiar satisfaction runs through Felix's veins. After so long without experiencing it, he realizes what Dimitri's words meant.

* * *

Felix arrives after news of the execution do, and Sylvain recalls the pale look in Adrien’s face when he heard about it as he now salutes his father with a hug. Felix checks he isn’t harmed, which should make Sylvain feel at least a little offended, because there’s no way he could hurt this kid or let him get badly hurt. He’s not that bad, and if Felix thought him capable of that, he wouldn’t have left Adrien here in the first place.

‘We’ll go back home as soon as the sun rises tomorrow,’ Felix tells the boy, making a small smile that Adrien gives back. And in that small span of time, Sylvain finds the only thing he wants.

‘Felix. Would you mind some conversation over tea? To catch up before you two go.’

These small windows and thick brick walls - they could never contain all Sylvain would like to tell Felix, but he's also aware of how fake they sound like. How little right he has to talk about love. And even if he regrets all his life, that won't be enough to give Felix back the years he lost. Nothing could.

He pours Almyran tea on both their cups, and sits down, while Felix looks at the white smoke raising from their beverages. 'I'm glad you caught the conspirators.'

Maybe that's not the best subject to start this conversation with. Felix picks up his cup, blowing into it a couple times before taking a small sip. 'Get to the point, Sylvain.'

I know this is not what you wanted to talk about, he means. And truly, Sylvain should feel lucky he even feels like talking about this, instead of burying it deep into their memories and let it fester. 

And so, they should do anything to avoid that.

'I'm… sorry.' Are the first words to come out. 'For everything I did back then. I could explain myself, but…'

'I don't care.'

'You don't care. I expected that.' He takes a sip of his own tea, not even noticing how much it burns on his tongue and throat. 'All the things I did, I did because I thought I could make you happy. Happier than Dimitri, anyway. But you never stopped wanting him.'

'Where are you going, Sylvain?'

'I was- A fool.' And this is where he's trying to go, even if he doesn't know the most appropriate words. 'And I regret the way I… behaved back then.'

Felix's eyes are like daggers on him, but he seems to finally be listening attentively. 'That's what a normal person would do, I guess.'

'Probably,' his voice comes out like a murmur, and they both swallow down the hot tea, Felix's cup landing on the table first.

'Sylvain,’ he calls, after way too many seconds of stillness, his fingers intertwined on his lap, different from his usual defensive stance. 'I'm grateful for what you've done for Adrien, helping me keep him away from danger. I truly am. But,' he grimaces, looking back down at the table. 'Looking at you makes me want to retch.'

'That's rough,' Sylvain comments, forcing a sad smile. 

Felix whines. 'Let me finish. I don't… think I hate you. Maybe I should. But I'm aware of my own faults and yours. I started doing something wrong, and you… Made it worse.' Sylvain nods, not saying a word. 'And I'd rather not interact with you in a personal way again.'

So this is it.

'You know,' Sylvain comments, in a way happier tone than he should. 'You're getting some of Dimitri's speech. It feels like it, at least.'

Felix doesn't reply, focusing on finishing his tea and leaving.

_ We will stay together forever! Until the day we die. _

_ And then we'll die together. _

The ghosts of two children and a promise follow Felix out of the room, vanishing behind the door and into the grey walls of Gautier, leaving a hollow man behind.

* * *

The service carries Adrien's luggage to the carriage, while the prince and Cedric say their goodbyes. The latter has an unusual, fascinated smile as he looks at the former, and Felix finds something familiar in that gaze Cedric gives his son.

'Felix.'

His stomach seems to make a knot over himself at that voice calling his name, and he only turns his head slightly.

'Yes?'

'You're going to Fhirdiad, right?'

'Actually, no.' Felix sighs, turning back to the two young boys. They at least seem almost done. 'We're going to Fraldarius first.'

'Ah. Why? If I can ask.'

'There is something I have to fetch there.'

'Something very important, to keep the king's sword away from him any longer.'

Unlike years ago, there's no scorn in his voice, no reprimand. Just well meaning words. Somehow those still make him feel sick.

'Could you look at me for a moment? Just once.'

Felix groans, rubbing his temple, but crosses his arms over his chest and half turns around. 'What?'

A gust of wind blows between them, like a barrier neither of them can walk over anymore. Sylvain smiles, and, for now, it looks painfully sincere.

'If… that true, sincere kind of love does exist and one of us must have it… I'm glad it's you.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lads who were expecting a brutal confrontation between Felix and Sylvain but honestly these lads are almost in their 40s. The tired bastard syndrome hit hard.
> 
> The last 2 chapters (the last chapter proper and a small epilogue) will probably be uploaded at the same time, and also probably on Dimitri's birthday.
> 
> No I will not turn on my location.


	10. For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god this is the last proper chapter of the fic. I can't believe this. Phew.
> 
> Please DO read the small epilogue that will come immediately after this chapter comes out since there's important stuff here and it's very short. 
> 
> Enjoy chapter 10: Emotional Pay-off

The sound of metal clashing is a memory most Faerghan children know well, especially if they're born to a noble house. Felix and Glenn had heard it from an early age, and Rodrigue and their ancestors before them. Adrien hadn't been an exception. Like many young nobles of Faerghus he already wielded his weapon like it was an extension of himself.

Felix looks up, to the training grounds invaded by the mist, and sees two familiar figures sparring in the midst of it, apparently tied in strength. Adrien's golden hair is more visible, paired with his open and honest combat style, a reflection of Dimitri's.

Glenn, meanwhile, is hard to pinpoint. Felix has to squint to get a glimpse of his shadow inside the mist. There is something strange about this situation, but Felix can't quite say why. Would there be mist in this season? What season are they in, anyway?

Metal keeps clashing against meta. Their steps are heard clear all around the training grounds, and it feels like a never ending battle. However, at a certain point, be it for sheer force or height, Adrien starts overpowering his young uncle, and Felix's heart starts racing.

He wants to say something, but somehow, he knows the mist won't let them hear him. So he stands there, a mere spectator to this odd spectacle.

And then, Glenn's shadow falls to the ground and seems to vanish into the dense white fog like it never existed.

'Felix!' the remaining boy calls, dropping his weapon and rushing to Felix's side. 'Felix, I won!'

Felix smiles, even if his eyes linger on the spot where Glenn vanished for a while. 'I saw.'

'Felix, Felix!' he keeps saying, as he wraps him around his arms, lifting him from the ground. 

'Yes, I hear you.'

'Father!'

Felix gasps, waking up immediately. Adrien is holding him by the shoulders, with a worried expression on his face, and Felix's heart threatens to explode at any moment. 'Felix? Are you alright?'

So it was a dream. It makes sense it would be. Glenn has been dead for so long, and yet Felix's foolish mind still reminds him of…

Well, there's no point in thinking about it, is there.

'I'm… fine. I was dreaming.'

'I noticed. You talk in your sleep, you know?'

'Ugh,' he groans.. 'Do I now.'

'I didn't get anything though. It sounded like a strange dream.'

'...It was.'

Adren nods, and sits back on his seat of the carriage, subconsciously crossing his arms and legs just like Felix. 'Anyway! We've almost arrived at Fraldarius already. That's why I was trying to wake you up.'

'Ah.' 

Had Adrien called him father?

He doesn't ask.

'What are we going to do here? You said you had to pick up something important.'

'That's what we're going to do, yes.' Felix admits tiredly.

'Is it a hero relic?'

'Not really.'

Adrien hums, and Felix looks out of the window, to the familiar landscape that surrounds what was his childhood house. He hasn't visited in a while, and there will be many things to do once he gets there, but at least Adrien will be by his side.

'Is it true that you killed the traitor?'

Adrien's sudden question makes Felix jump on his seat, but he recovers his composure easily. 'Yes, I did.'

'How… was it?'

Felix frowns. 'What do you mean?'

'I…' Adrien twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, nervous. 'I don't know if I'd be capable of killing anyone. Even if I've been… technically training for it.'

'I wouldn't see it that way.' Felix adjusts himself on the seat, to look easier into Adrien's eyes. Amber. Just like his own. 'You're training to know how to defend yourself, should the need arise.'

That's what he tells himself, anyway.

'Besides,' he continues. 'I'm glad that you think that way.'

'Why? Doesn't that make me weak?'

'Nonsense,' Felix groans, rubbing his face. 'Killing is the easy way.'

Hypocrite. Adrien looks down, confused, but maybe also disappointed. 

'...Felix?'

'Yes?'

'How many did you kill? In the war.'

Felix closes his eyes, feeling a painful grip in chest. 'I don't know. As many as I had to. If we hadn't done that… Who knows if you'd be here.'

'I see.'

'Me… and your father. We both killed for the first time when we were fifteen. At the Academy, as well. No teenager needs that burden on their conscience, even if this damn country has a problem admitting it.' Felix sighs, his chest growing heavier with each word. 

'The dead can cling to you, ruin you completely if you let them take over. Adrien, if you can remember only one thing that I've ever told you, let it be this,' he inhales, the words heavy on his tongue. 'The living are always more important than the dead.'

Adrien, despite the grim tone of the conversation, smiles. 'I think that's one of those things you say I wouldn't be able to forget even if I wanted to.'

Somehow, Felix manages to smile back. 

* * *

The house hasn't changed much ever since the war ended, as Felix never felt strong enough to change any decoration that didn't give him painful memories. Adrien looks around, noticing details Felix himself had ignored, as if this is his first time here. 

In a way, it is. He couldn't possibly remember.

'Explore to your heart's content.' And so Adrien does, disappearing into the thick walls of yet another house that looks more like a fortress than a home sometimes. Felix, meanwhile, walks alone to the second floor, where a myriad of important rooms are. He walks past his own, giving its doors a small glance at most, and advances one more room until he gets to the one he is searching for.

His fingers stroke the door, and the touch alone brings back thoughts he had buried in the depths of his mind. Whathad Dimitri feel at this moment, right before seeing his son for the first time? He remembers his own thoughts, sitting in front of the crib with a way smaller Adrien, the baby that would look up at him and find his whole world in Felix, someone that was about to push him far, far away. Hearing Dimitri's steps nearing the room where Felix would make one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

He opens the doors, walking inside the dusty room. Unlike the others, this one has been left alone, abandoned by servants and owner alike. 

The crib is still there, as are most things. His eyes then notice the trunk he's been searching for, and he kneels in front of it to open it.

There only is one thing inside, a sword, carefully wrapped in pristine white blankets for protection. He unwraps it just a little, to see the handle properly and be sure this is still the sword he needs. It's as heavy and sturdy as he remembers.

He wraps it up again, and carries it to the bed, leaving it there with extreme care. 

'Felix?'

He looks up, and seed Adrien peeking inside the room, his eyes curiously darting around it. 

'Come in.'

And so he does, and the first thing he focuses on is the massive sword on the bed.

Felix scoffs, unwrapping the sword again much to Adrien's excitement. 'It a sword made by Zoltan himself.'

'It looks great,' Adrien murmurs, scared of even touching the thing. 'And heavy. And big.'

'It's all of those things. I barely used it, though. Didn't want to waste something so precious.'

'I wouldn't use it either,' Adrien admits, but then he notices something else, and Felix's stomach curls when he realizes what it could be. 'Hey, Felix, did you have children?'

There are several seconds of silence between them, that must have given Adrien his answer already. 

'There's something I need to show you,' Felix finally says, with a tight knot in his throat. Adrien nods.

They walk out of this room together, Felix closing the door behind them before leading the way down the corridor. It isn't long, but it feels like an eternity when they've finally arrived at Felix's own room, a place that still makes him feel lightheaded whenever he exists in it.

This, however, is more important than himself.

He pushes the doors open, revealing a chamber that hasn't been used in a long time, despite being dutifully cleaned like most of the house. Adrien walks inside, his natural curiosity pushing him to search in every corner of the room for a clue to explain the origin of the crib he saw before.

However, all his answers are already, quite literally, behind him. Maybe he already knows that.

'This,' Felix starts, resting his back against the door, 'is the room where you were born.'

Adrien's shoulders fall, and he turns to look at Felix.

'Lone Moon, at the sunrise of the 15th day… At least that's what I was told. I passed out almost immediately after you cried for the first time. Mercedes told me I almost died that night.' He walks across the room, remembering that day like it is recent, like there aren't fifteen years of difference between that small baby he decided to name Adrien, and the teenager standing in the middle of his room. 

'I slept for a whole day. And then I named you. I thought Adrien was a good name for you. And even back then, you looked so, so much like Dimitri. At the moment, that… was unbearable to me. But I couldn't stop loving you with all my heart even if I tried to lie to myself. Dimitri didn't even know you existed,' his voice goes lower, and he sits on the bed, looking at his own hands, 'until some time after you were born. He cried of happiness when he saw you.'

'But… Then why…'

Felix still can’t bring himself to lift his gaze from his hands.

'I was a fool, back then. I was also terrified. My relationship with Dimitri at the moment was too strange. There were… many complicated factors. But ultimately, it's… my fault. Abandoning you to your father was my decision, my mistake and nobody else's.'

'But you didn't abandon me.'

Those words make Felix look up, heart suddenly beating hard on his chest. 'What?'

'I… don't know the details. You don't have to tell me, even if I do want to know about them. And I'm probably wrong,' Adrien murmurs as he sits by his side on the bed. 'But… the first thing I remember of all my life is that wooden sword you gave me, and when I broke the sword and hurt myself? You helped me calm down and healed me.'

'But, I–'

'You came visit many times, and always treated me with love. I remember it. When I was poisoned, you carried me back to my bed and stayed there. I… thought it had been father… the other one.' Adrien smiles a little, and Felix notices his eyes are teary. 'But the person that talked to me while I was feverish and hallucinating. It wasn't him. It was you, right?'

Felix's voice breaks as he tries to speak. 'I- It was. It was.'

'You tell me you made an unforgivable mistake, but I never, in my whole life, have gone unloved. Especially not by you,' Adrien swallows, rubbing a small tear away of his own eye, 'father.'

The knot comes undone, and the tears start sliding down his cheeks before Felix can even notice them. 'Adrien–'

'Yes?'

Felix quickly wipes away the tears, but they seem to have no end, and his voice keeps breaking. 'K-Keep– Calling me father. Please.'

'Will do, father.' He laughs through his own tears and pulls Felix closer in a hug, burying his nose in Felix's shoulder. 'I love you a lot, father.'

Awkwardly, his arms hug Adrien back, as tightly as he can. The words are hard to say, even when he feels them as much as he could. 'I… L-Love you as well, son.'

* * *

The streets of Fhirdiad are bustling with people, now that the warmest season is upon them. It's also filled with rumours about executions and trials, valuable information that Claude would like to hear more about from the Savior King and his right hand man over some tea. However, there will be time for that later, as the hand he is holding reminds him. 

'I've spent months without seeing them, and I already feel like I'm on the way to insanity,' his husband's voice mutters, head against Claude's shoulder. 'I wonder how you did it.'

'I wonder that too,' he murmurs, and presses his cheek against Lorenz's hair. 'But soon we won't have to worry about that anymore.'

Lorenz nods, lifting his head to leave a kiss on Claude's cheek, which soon turns into a kiss on the lips, slow and tender.

Their carriage stops, interrupting the gesture, and Claude sighs.

'It will be alright, love,' Lorenz assures him. Claude would like to appear as sure of everything as he usually does. But this is not something he can predict and mold to his will, not to the extent he wishes he could.

All he can really do is hope for the best.

They walk by the doors of the school of Sorcery of Fhirdiad, and Claude looks up at the massive group of buildings that make the academy and the gardens around it. Despite how cold this damn place is, nature is returning to its spring greenness. 

'Well then, Annette should be waiting for us inside.'

'I…'m going to wait here.' 

Lorenz blinks. 'Are you certain?'

'Yes. That way you can prepare them. It's going to be quite a shock, seeing their father out of nowhere, after so long…'

Lorenz stares at him, not sure of what Claude's words could really mean. In the end, he gives up, shoulders dropping. 'Understood.'

With a small goodbye kiss, Lorenz lets go of Claude's hand, making him slightly dizzy with fear as he walks inside the building.

Claude looks up at the grey sky, for an amount of time he hasn't noticed passing by, and curls up in his fluffy cape. This cold is very much one of the reasons he doesn't visit Dimitri as much as he'd like.

It’s spring and yet it still -

'You!'

The voice startles him, and Claude yelps, embarrassingly enough. 'What…' When he turns to the origin of that voice, he expects anything except…

Except them.

Two teenagers, a boy and a girl, who had been resting against a tree walk up to him. They have darker skin, and the green and purple eyes, the-

His children. The babies he only got to hold so few times, that he could never kiss or hug enough.

'You're– the man who gave me Altenna!'

'Esen,’ Claude murmurs, much to the kid’s surprise and his own. ‘Sarah…’

The kids he himself had named, so long ago, that he had missed so dearly.

‘Is he…’ Sarah starts muttering, but doesn’t continue the sentence, staring up at Claude as if a realization is about to hit her.

‘You remember me?’ Esen murmurs into the silence between them, in disbelief.

Claude advances, hurries through the steps to get close enough to hug them. If he could, he’d pull them close, as tight as he’s been meaning to for so many years. 

‘I could never,’ he whispers, tears piling up in his eyes, ‘forget either of you.’

* * *

Snow falls on Gautier territory most of the year, and so Sylvain and Cedric watch it snow with the fuming hot cups of tea in their hands. ‘Did you have fun with His Highness?’

‘It was very nice.’ Which in Cedric language, means that he had a blast. ‘He’s an interesting person. Although duke Fraldarius looked very scary.’

‘Oh, did he?’ Sylvain laughs, taking a sip of his tea. ‘He’s like that. The prince isn’t anything like him, isn’t he?’

‘Why would he be?’ Cedric says, raising an eyebrow, and he sinks into his chair. ‘He’s… really sweet.’

A small smile tugs at Sylvain’s lips, recognizing the tone Cedric is using, but decides to not comment on it. ‘A good kid,’ he concedes. ‘Like his father.’

They take another sip together, at the same time, and Cedric seems pensive about something, tapping on the cup as he brings it down from his lips.

'Something wrong?'

'I'm just wondering,' Cedric says, and his grey eyes lock on Sylvain's, 'if I would be allowed to call you  _ father _ , like Adrien does his.'

'Oh,' is the first reply that comes to him. '...Are you… sure that you want that?'

'Yes, that's why I'm asking.'

'I know, but… It's not like being my son has much… honor to it. Haven't you heard the sort of people they call "sons of Gautier"?'

'I've dealt with gossip before,' he says, shrugging. 'And… I don't know. You could've easily rejected me and… And you called me your son in front of duke Fraldarius. I… am grateful for that.'

'Cedric, you shouldn't thank someone who does the bare minimum,' he replies, with a bitter smile. 'Which is… what I do, most of the time. It would have been cruel of me to just kick you out.'

'Some other noble would do it. Or try to hide his bastards as much as possible. But… you're not embarrassed of me.'

'You are the one that should be embarrassed of me.' Sylvain sighs, getting up from his chair. Cedric's eyes follow him as he walks around the table until he's behind his chair and holding Cedric’s face to squish it softly, getting a whine from the boy. Sylvain’s smiling as he continues, 'But, if you want, we can try it out. If one of us feels uncomfortable about it after a while, we'll just stop. Sounds good?'

Cedric nods. 'Sounds good.'

* * *

‘Haven’t you been feeling less than well lately, Felix?’

Well, he has. But that’s what exhaustion does to the body, anyway, so why bother caring so much about it? ‘I’m fine.’

‘You could be coming down with a stomach ailment.’ The worry in his eye is so embarrassing, Felix is grateful to be able to look down the balcony instead of at him. ‘I wouldn’t want you to…’

‘I know, I know. Chastise me later.’ Felix makes a tired gesture with his hand. ‘I wanted to discuss something more important than that.’ 

Dimitri walks closer to him, immediately placing a hand on his back. ‘Only Adrien is more important than you, so now you have me even more worried.’

‘Ugh, it’s not-’ 

‘Oh?’

Dimitri finally has noticed the object in Felix’s hands, and his mouth falls open. The magnificent claymore he’s holding, partially hidden from Dimitri’s vision before by Felix’s figure. ‘Is that…’

‘The sword of Zoltan. I wanted to… offer it to you.’ He pulls it away from Dimitri’s reach. ‘With one condition.’

‘Condition?’ 

Felix looks at the hands that are holding the claymore, searching for the words he has been practicing so many times in his head. 'That you- You-' 

He just has to push very few small words out of his mouth, but they don't come out.

So it's time for a different plan. Felix gives Dimitri the sword to hold, and puts his hands around his own neck, untying the cord around it and showing the necklace to Dimitri. The engagement ring shines under the pale sunlight. '...I'll accept this, if you accept the sword.'

'...F-Felix, are you- asking me to marry you?'

'Yes,’ he replies curtly.

And then, Dimitri starts giggling.

'What the hell–'

'So that was the trick,' he says, laughing more as if he wants Felix to kill him on the spot. 'Proposing to you with a sword. And I proposed with a ring… How foolish of me.'

'You– Just answer me already!'

Dimitri finally stops laughing, smiling tenderly instead, stroking Felix's cheek. 'Of course I say yes, my love… How could I not? I've dreamed of his moment for so long…'

Felix feels his face heat up, despite himself, and leans against Dimitri's touch, nuzzling the palm of his hand. 'Just… put the damn ring in my finger, will you.'

'Of course.' 

Dimitri holds the ring, tossing the cord away, and, apparently without any sense of shame, gets down on one knee and pulls Felix's glove off. Holding his lover's hand, the king slides the ring into his finger, and then kisses Felix's knuckles, looking up with a smile at his flustered face.

He's feeling more emotions than he can describe, looking into those beautiful amber eyes he has loved over a lifetime.

'Thank you, Felix. My dear, beloved fiancé.'


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I am so. I can't believe this fic is done for real. Good lord. 
> 
> It was the result of 4? ish months of a lot of planning and work but it's here and I love this little thing I did so much. I thought I was incapable of writing longfics but. Would you look at this!
> 
> I'm so thankful to everyone that has supported me along the way, especially @saunatonttu who has been proofreading this monster and supporting me through this wild ride. I hope I can start my next long project on January, but until then, I hope you liked this journey just as much as I did.

Felix's mornings start, most days, with his husband's sleeping face, his blue eye opening, his lips curling into the sweetest of smiles, and a morning kiss, and this is no different. Dimitri’s hand cups his face, pulling him closer for more of those kisses, as if they have the time for gestures like this.

Felix, however, allows himself a little more of this affection, before pushing Dimitri. ‘There’s work today…’

His Majesty whines, making Felix smirk a little. ‘I despise it…’

‘I know,’ Dimitri’s arms finally let go of him, and so the consort king sits up on the bed. ‘Does your head still hurt?’

‘No.’ The king himself sits up as well, taking advantage of the situation to kiss Felix yet again. ‘I’m alright.’

‘Good-’

‘Especially because I woke up with you.’

Felix huffs, and turns around to get up from the bed while ignoring his husband’s pitiful whines. Despite the years, Dimitri’s sudden sappiness still made him flush slightly, always catching him off guard somehow. ‘Get up, Boar King. There are documents to stamp and whiny bastards to listen to.’

‘Well, that attitude just won’t do.’ But despite his words, Felix can hear the smile in his voice. Dimitri’s hands land on Felix’s hips soon enough. He has barely had the time to start buttoning up his shirt, for Goddess’ sake…

‘It’s a realistic attitude,’ he murmurs, sighing when Dimitri’s lips kiss his temple and earlobe. 

‘I suggest you think about the piglets that will be waiting for us in the dining hall.’

Funny that Dimitri, the one that was so distraught by the nickname, would end up using it so casually. But Felix has to concede that he’s making a good point. 

‘Let me get dressed and do so yourself first, then.’

  
  
  


The sight of the king and his consort walking to the dining hall, the former’s hand on the latter’s back and the duke’s eyes fixated on documents and notes to work on the rest of the day, is common among the service of castle Fhirdiad. The rumours about them have shifted slightly ever since their wedding five years ago, or at least that’s what Felix has noticed. Even though the thought of House Fraldarius fusing into House Blaiddyd had ruffled some feathers.

The breakfast is already served, and Dimitri’s daily medicine stands between his seat and Felix’s. 

‘And then, there is the report from House Galatea,’ the ever dutiful consort murmurs, more to himself than to his husband. ‘We’ll have to analyze it carefully, but it seems they’re doing well.’

‘Ingrid will be happy to hear it.’ As soon as they sit down, Dimitri kisses his hair, and accommodates himself on the chair. Felix hums. ‘My love, please put work aside at least during breakfast.’

‘Ah, right.’ Felix leaves the notes aside, looking up at the two seats in front of them that should be occupied. ‘I’m assuming they got distracted again.’

Dimitri laughs softly. ‘I’d assume that too, yes.’

Felix sighs, grabbing a piece of fruit right as a servant yelps outside of the hall and someone opens the walls in one simple push.

‘Good morning!’

‘Mornin’!’

There they are. Adrien stands under the door frame for a second, getting back his breath after what most likely was a race from his sister’s room. Maria is clinging to his neck, her blue hair tied up in a ponytail matching her father’s. 

‘Sorry,’ Adrien mutters, carrying his little sister to her chair, and then promptly sitting by her side. ‘She couldn’t decide which dress she wanted.’

She looks at her brother, cheeks puffing up, blue eyes glittering in deep offense. ‘He couldn’t do the ponytail!’

‘How is it that hard to do a ponytail?’ Dimitri questions, his eyebrows shooting up. Adrien blushes.

‘I tried to… give her a fancy and cute hairstyle, like you do with father sometimes.’ Felix grunts in response to being mentioned, as he hands Maria sliced fruit. ‘But it… didn’t work.’

‘It hurt!’ she whines to Dimitri, who gives her a compassionate smile.

‘Did he pull at your hair, my sweetest?’

‘I didn’t!’ Adrien whines, just as Maria nods, baby doll eyes breaking through Dimitri’s already weak defenses. ‘She’s making stuff up to incriminate me.’

‘Stop whining and eat. And I better not see any crumbs of bread or anything else fly over to my plate,’ Felix interjects for the first time.

‘That was  _ once _ ,’ Adrien mutters, taking a spoonful of his porridge. Meanwhile, Maria chews on a piece of fruit, distracted by either the food itself or her complicated four-year-old thoughts. ‘Ah, did you know both Cedric and Adel’s letters arrived at the same time yesterday night? Right after dinner.’

Felix looks up, as Dimitri keeps an eye on the little princess. ‘And what are the news?’

‘Not much, just…’

  
  
  


The day goes by as easily as the rest, following the routine that had been the staple ever since Maria had been born. There were, as Felix had said, papers to stamp with the royal crest, whiny nobles to listen to, reforms to make on the path to the world Dimitri had always envisioned since before he was crowned. So much work, on the shoulders of two people that just happened to work like they were two parts of the same being.

In one of the few moments of rest of the day, right before going to sleep,Dimitri’s hand is still holding Felix’s, both of them leaning over a document whose ink was still drying up. Felix sighs, frowning at it. ‘Hopefully this won’t be needed anytime soon.’

Dimitri raises Felix’s hand, kissing the knuckle next to the engagement ring he had finally accepted five years ago. ‘I don’t think so. But I wanted to get it out of the way.’

Felix sighs tiredly. ‘That’s fair.’

‘My beloved,’ he calls, and Felix’s heart beats faster despite how used he is to the pet name. ‘We’re both exhausted, aren’t we? I’m sorry for keeping you up with this.’

‘It’s quite literally my job,’ Felix replies, his thumb stroking Dimitri’s hand. ‘But we should go to bed soon. Or you will be impossible to awake tomorrow.’

‘As usual, you’re right.’

In motions they’ve both more than used to, they change into sleepwear between small touches and kisses that never feel too worn out, and pull the bedsheets away just enough to slip inside them.

Dimitri’s arm is immediately around him. ‘Good night…’

‘Good night.’

‘I love you.’

Felix smiles, just a little, and looks into Dimitri’s bleary blue gaze.

‘I love you too.’


End file.
